


In the Heart of the City

by MischiefManaged (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Genderqueer Character, Homelessness, M/M, mentions of recreational drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MischiefManaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bofur is entirely too old to be trying to woo a younger man with jokes that make Bilbo eye the ceiling in embarrassment. KÍli is entirely too intelligent to be inviting a complete stranger into his home over a flower or two. Somehow, they forget these things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to start this off by saying I know nothing about being homeless, and I don't pretend to know. I'm trying not to assume too much with this story and still remain as accurate as I can guess. I'm not sure what inspired this, but I'm so very fond of Bofur and KÍli being dumb idiots together (much to the chargrin of Thorin and Bilbo).

Bofur sits on a rusted and frozen park bench with his head tipped slightly back so as to get a better view of the city's skyline while he rests. His tattered gloves and worn hat provide little comfort from the late autumn air even with his braids undone, and he huddles into his thick coat for some solace, fingers running over the blade he keeps in his pocket for whittling. It's little comfort, because the thick material has long since chilled to the core and only barely retains body heat. He'll be lucky to be able to spend more than ten minutes in a warm business place before being thrown out as is usually the case in cities. His gaze loses focus for a few moments and everything seems to blur into a mirage of watery red and grey and orange and white until he sighs deeply and sadly to himself and closes his eyes. 

He's on the brink of it again, he realizes with no small amount of dread, of winter on the streets. Three winters he's suffered, yet they don't get any easier with each passing and he dreads the first snowfall. He can scrape up enough money through the months to buy at least three meals a week and sometimes even a clean blanket, but it's far from a life of luxury. Bofur had come to this specific city, though it's name is lost to him, a few weeks ago after having caught a ride with a kind stranger in hopes that he could find a business that would let him sell his wares without consequence. The details of the law are foggy to him but he knows he doesn't need a license to sell his wooden toys if the shop gives him permission. He's had no luck as of yet but he'll continue the search this day, on the busiest block of the city. 

The block mainly consists of food chains and cafes, but there's an occasional small business shop that he thinks promising. He slides his hat off and rebraids his hair in hopes of making himself more presentable before pulling it back on to avoid chilling his ears. He knows how he looks to other people, had been one of those other people a handful of years ago, with his threadbare clothing that's stained a darker shade of brown with dirt and grime. His boots are nearly industrial, a present from his cousin, and they've held up admirably (though his socks are another story entirely) against the seasons. 

After ten minutes of planning to himself, he finally packs up his small leather bag and begins the five minute trek to the city square. As a hobby, he likes to people watch when he roams around the city, but it's a risky thing in the city as a homeless man. Because people watch you back, and sometimes its with suspicious and even malice. If you hold eye contact for too long, people get defensive and paranoid. It usually never goes anywhere beyond being avoided even more, but occasionally he'll get a drink tossed onto him or change thrown. Nothing harmful, but very hurtful.

This time, since it's a crowded place even despite the cold, he never lets his eyes linger on one person for more than a passing glance. The first place he stops is at a local coffee shop. The young woman working behind the counter tells him the owner is on vacation in Spain and she can't give him permission to sell his things. He considers coming back in a few months if nothing else turns up to speak to the manager, but instead thanks her for her time and understanding. She gives him a small cup of tea and muffin to take with him and he's grinning widely to himself as he continues down the sidewalk. 

The next place is an indie sort of new age shop three buildings down. The man working the counter is a tall older gentleman with an impressive silver beard and even more impressive ponytail to match. An elaborately carved pipe is perched between his lips and he puffs smoke from the corner of his mouth without taking it out. He closes the heavy tome he's reading from as Bofur enters, and the smaller man is altogether overwhelmed by the smell of old books and heady incense that permeates through the shop. "Namaste," the elder greets him.

Not quite sure as to the meaning behind the word, but certain of it being a greeting, Bofur raises a hand in salutations. "Hullo. Is the owner o' this shop here?"

"Certainly. You're looking at him, in fact. Gandalf, at your service. What can I help you with?" The man asks with a twinkle to his eyes that makes Bofur thinks he already knows, though that's nearly impossible.

Bofur clears his throat and fiddles with his satchel until he produces his most elaborate wooden toy, one he's been using as a showcase. Gandalf raises an eyebrow in askance, setting his pipe aside, and Bofur sets it on the glass counter top. "I've come to ask a favor, sir."

"A favor? I was not aware we were so well acquainted," he jokes, then holds up a hand when Bofur opens his mouth to retract his presumptuous statement. "Go on, then. I've found I'm rather well stocked in favors this week."

Bofur isn't really sure if the man is referencing anything with that last bit, but decides not to think too hard on it. He spins the toy towards the other, a small wooden soldier with a shield emblazoned with runes. Gandalf leans downwards to take a closer look at it, paying particular attention to the shield before nodding for Bofur to talk. "I was hopin' to sell these in yer store, with permission o' course."

Gandalf seems to ponder this. "I see. And am I to presume you can't sell these on your own?"

"Aye. City won't grant a vendin' license to a homeless immigrant, I'm afraid," Bofur replies with good humor though the underlying implications aren't lost on Gandalf and he nods gravely. 

"Well this is fine craftsmanship, and I would love to know more about these inscriptions you've made on here. However, I'm afraid I don't get much business here. This is a store for a certain kind of client." Bofur nods and reaches for the toy, already sensing the end of this deal. But Gandalf surprises him by picking the soldier up again and squinting at it. "I know someone who could be of help however. Across the street, a good friend of mine sells all sorts of odds and ends. He gets a lot of business, mostly from college students with something to prove."

Bofur isn't quite sure how to react to that, suspended in between relief and disappointment. His pride demands that he politely decline that this man do him more than he already has simply by hearing him out, but his common sense tells him to shut the hell up and accept what has been offered. He nods rather dumbly, lips stretched into a smile. Gandalf claps his hands together.

"Wonderful. Feel free to have a look around while I call Bilbo and sort this out."

He takes that for the dismissal that it is and finds no offense in it. The shop is interesting enough, and he begins by looking at the "basics" you'd expect to find at a new age shop such as this one. There's a table covered in assorted rocks of varying sizes, and he spends a great deal of time admiring the opals and bloodstones before moving on to the next table. The tablecloth looks native in design and mostly had small figurines atop it. Bofur recognizes a few of the more prominent religious figures, and some of the lesser ones. A larger statue of Buddha is on the very top tier of the table, surrounded by different coins and jewelry. Interesting, but not eye catching.

Things seem to become far more fascinating towards the back. There's a small doorway to go through and above it in swirling, Germanic calligraphy is a sign reading: 'Here there be dragons.' There's a large bookshelf pressed against the far right wall, and a lot of the titles aren't in English. He spots one in Gaelic and nods in approval. Judging from the rest of the books, this is the "magic" section of the story. A lot of the books are by Crowley and a really large book says something about Solomon. 

He's never really had much of an interest in the occult beyond Norse runes and the tales his mother used to tell him of a time long since passed, but his curiosity is thoroughly peaked now. He bypasses the books to take a closer look at a pan flute that is so ornate he hardly dares to breathe near it. Carefully, and so gently he wonders if he's even touching it, he picks up the flute and examines it. The price tag makes him flinch and quickly (but not recklessly) replace the item. He could have easily bought it a few years ago, though he wouldn't now even if he could. Beside the pan flute is a book about bards, though he's only ever heard of them in fictional mediums. 

"I never did catch your name," a voice says behind him and he turns to apologize to Gandalf, only to find he has company. 

He dips down ever so slightly in a small bow that has Gandalf's face twisting into amusement and the much, much shorter man beside him furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Bofur Sangster, at yer service." 

"Ah, quite right, too," Gandalf replies, which seems to confuse his friend as much as Bofur so he feels satisfied in their mutual ignorance. "Bofur, this is the man I told you about earlier, Bilbo Baggins. He's terribly English, I'm afraid."

Bilbo seems to take a sort of resigned offense to that and Bofur presumes this is a common introduction. Though he can't place Gandalf's accent, he's hardly American himself. "Pleased to meet ya, Bilbo. Sorry to hear about yer ailment."

"Yes, well," Bilbo begins and then clears his throat for lack of anything else to say, shooting a small glare at Gandalf when the older man laughs heartily. "I'm told you make toys."

Bofur nods and gestures to the wooden soldier Gandalf still has with him. "Though I suppose I could make somethin' else, if that's more to yer likin'." Bilbo shakes his head and examines the soldier more critically than Gandalf had, running the pads of his fingers over the wood as if searching for faults. Bofur was very certain he would find none. 

"Could you tell me more about this inscription?" Bilbo asks with far more curiosity than Gandalf had. He thinks it odd, though he supposes that someone with ties to the occult would probably find interest in the runes. Or at least mild curiosity. He rifles through his bag to take out the wooden dagger he carved and profure it to Bilbo.

"I use 'em on all o' my toys. Elder Futhark, if I'm correct. I just like to give 'em a name after I make them," he explains, tampering down his accent once it flares up heavily with his accent. He's been told on several occasions that he becomes hard to understand once he gets really excited or passionate. Fascinating, Gandald calls it. Bilbo doesn't look as if he shares the sentiment, but he politely nods his agreement. 

"Gandalf, are you sure this isn't more suited for your shop?" Bilbo questions, turning it over again. 

The older man bristles in a way that shows a lot of wisdom but a very limited amount of patience, harrumphing in Bilbo's direction. "I don't get nearly as much business as you do, and you always tell me how much you'd love to have an agreement with an actual artist. Well here you have it, Bilbo Baggins. You'd be wise to take such gifts where they lie."

"Oh, I'd hardly call my stuff art. Or a gift for that matter," Bofur protests, not really seeing the beauty in his simple work. Bilbo waves him off saying: "Nonsense. These are lovely." To which Bofur has no reply but nods his thanks.

"Well then there you have it. We can discuss business arrangements in a moment, but first I believe the pot has just finished boiling." Gandalf says and leaves Bilbo and Bofur to themselves.

Bilbo steps over to him to give back his wooden toys and Bofur notes how much shorter the man is, no easy feat. Bofur gratefully replaces the work, but notes Bilbo's hesitant expression. "Look, lad. If yer not up to this sorta thing, don't pressure yerself. I know how things go and it's no new thing to me if ya don't want me muckin' up the place."

Bilbo startles, as if his whole sense of character has been brought into question. Given what Bofur knows of the English, it probably has. He doesn't seem to take offense to the statement, however. Simply resigned. "No, no. It's not really anything to do with you. This really would be good for my business and I love to be of help where I can. It's just..." he trails off and leans in conspiratorially, and gestures for Bofur to do the same. He does so. "I can't stand the smug look Gandalf gets when he meddles for the betterment of other people."

That startles a laugh right out of Bofur and an accomplished smile creeps across Bilbo's face. This, Bofur supposes, is what impending success feels like.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks later, Bofur finds himself with his own little corner of the shop to call his own, right beside the large window displaying the sidewalk and all it's occupants. Bilbo had cleared a table of it's contents (some boring looking documents that Bilbo had insisted were valuable but relocatable) and set it up near the checkout counter along with a well used set of carving tools. He had been pleasantly surprised and thanked Bilbo profusely. The other man had waved off his gratitude, but his reddened cheeks showed how he really felt. 

Bofur goes to the scrap yard three miles down the road every Wednesday to get pieces of wood to use and returns to Thai food every time. When they had worked out an agreement in Gandalf's shop, the terms had been clear. Bofur would be paid under the table by Bilbo and Bilbo would only ask for three percent of his monthly sales until a time in which he was able to get himself a home and get back onto his feet. Nothing less, nothing more. But of course, Bilbo was more than happy to plow right over that agreement. He would often cook for the two of them since his apartment is above the shop, and sometimes simply close up shop with Bofur fast asleep on the antique and very expensive divan that hadn't been sold yet. It's more than he could ask for, though when he says that to Bilbo, it inspires a truly fearful fit of denial in the man. 

On this particular Tuesday, there's a few college students browsing through what Bofur calls the "hipster" section. It's filled with odd things that don't quite go anywhere else in the store, rare finds and mostly old. A young woman breaks from the group and hesitantly approaches him, looking over his collection. She looks sort of young to be a college student, her hair braided at her temples and bobbing just past her ears in a style that he's used to seeing on secondary school children, though he's more concern with having anything of interest to her. He had sold the soldier a week ago for nearly fifty dollars and the dagger for nearly half of that. Bilbo had been disappointed, though Bofur saw it as a huge step up from what he had been making back in his old city. Now, all that's left is a wooden puzzle box and a life sized axe with the "blade" unsharpened. He's sure to give the girl a warm smile so she knows he won't bite, but otherwise lets her go about her business as he whittles out a wand that Gandalf had requested. 

"This looks like the Tesseract," she comments as she holds up the puzzle box with a quirk to her mouth that Bofur takes to mean she's referencing something she hopes he catches on to. Judging by the way her cheeks color and she looks down, he didn't do a very good job of pretending. "It's, uh. It's from The Avengers."

He smiles indulgently, genuinely interested. "Can't say I've seen The Avengers. S'it a movie?" She nods quickly and sets the box back down, clearly about to flee in embarrassment. "Would you recommend it to an old man like me?"

That seems to settle her nerves quite well and the tension in her fades significantly, shoulders slumping so that her large sweater slides around a bit. "I highly doubt you're old. But, yeah. I'd totally recommend it if you're into superhero movies and stuff. The graphics are amazing and Captain America is an absolute stud in his spandex. Oh, god. I'm sorry. Here I am, rambling away about hot superheroes you probably don't even care about and making an ass of myself. I'll leave you alone now."

Bofur chuckles softly and waves a hand as if to dismiss her worry. "Nonsense. I'm always open to hearin' about superheroes in spandex." He lets her take that how she will before continuing. "Now, I'm not sure what a Tessathing is, but tha' right there is a puzzle box. There's a Romanian coin inside if ya can solve it though I can't say it'll be easy."

"I dunno. My skills with puzzles aren't all that great. But... do you take requests? Because I think you could definitely make a bitchin' Tesseract."

He rarely gets anyone interested enough to make a request, save Gandalf, because most people like the mystery of something straight from another's imagination. The idea appeals to him, though, so he nods his assent. "You show me a picture o' it and I can give you a time and price estimate. But I can lower the price an' all that if it's out o' yer range."

"No, no. I'm sure whatever you tell me will be fine. Um," she rifles through her purse before cursing something foul under her breath. Bofur blinks in pleasant surprise. "I don't have the comic book with me, but I can bring a printed picture of it by later on. Would that be okay?"

"Whatever ya like, ma'am," Bofur replies and is quite confused by the squeaking noise she makes in response before she laughs it off. The group she was with before is checking out with Bilbo when he glances over, and the woman follows his gaze, seeming to think something over before making a final decision. 

"I'm Ori, by the way. I don't know if I'll be able to come back myself since I'm supposed to be doing research, but I'll try to send someone by, okay?" She says all of this rather quickly all the while walking back towards her friends. She stumbles into one of them and they have a good laugh over it. Bofur laughs and nods to show he heard her and understood before returning his attention to the wand.

All in all, the next month passes in a rather uneventful blur with no word from Ori. A very slow, very boring blur. Gandalf is wont to point this out every chance he gets, often muttering to Bofur that it's his solemn duty to shake up Bilbo's life. Bofur knows Bilbo at least a little bit, has seen the way his eyes go wide and his breathing goes into erratic patterns when an order comes in too soon or too late. He isn't sure if he shakes up Bilbo's life that the poor man will survive. He tells Gandalf so, but he simply harrumphs in that way of his and declares nonsense. 

It isn't until a week before Christmas that he gets word from Ori. Bilbo is in the middle of carrying two bowls of curry (Bofur still hasn't asked about why he favors this dish the most) when a young man come rushing through the door with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his hand. Bofur looks up from the staff—also commissioned by Gandalf— and nearly slices through his finger. The man is alarmingly handsome, young but with a rugged look to him that makes him seem sort of exotic. He carefully sets down his knife to avoid injury and picks up his now cold cup of coffee, watching with curious eyes as the man (who doesn't seem to have noticed him) bounds into the shop and nearly tackles Bilbo. "Mister Boggins!"

Bofur chokes on the sip he was taking, sloshing liquid all over his face and down his throat. He sets the cup aside, dabbing at himself with his sleeves and trying to stop coughing and laughing at the same time. "Boggins, is it? I have ta say, I like the sound o' that."

Bilbo sets Bofur's food down in front of him and gives him a warning look with no small amount of fondness. "Now, that will do. I won't have the both of you harassing me about this. I though I'd finally gotten rid of you, KÍli. What brings you here?"

KÍli, as Bofur now knows him as (and really, he wonders if everyone in the States is actually Europeans because he hasn't met an actual American yet), grins and uncrinkles the paper. The toymaker soon finds himself the center of the youth's attention and for the first time in a long time, he wishes he looked more presentable. 

"I believe I'm here ta see this man. Ori sent me," KÍli says and when recognition doesn't immediately light up on the other's face, starts explaining. "He said ta tell you he was the spandex girl. Actually, his exact words were more like, 'Tell him I'm the spandex guy. No, wait. I think he thought I was a girl. And I definitely don't want the nickname spandex anything. Oh, um. Oh god.' But I thought I'd paraphrase a bit."

Bofur blinks, having realized who Ori was about two seconds into the explanation  "Ori is a man?"

KÍli waves a hand as if this isn't important, and it really isn't, but Bofur would at least like to properly address Ori the way he...she? prefers  "Yes, but he's really flexible about it all. He likes to be called a man, but dresses as a woman. Simple as that. You didn't offend him."

"Simple indeed," Bilbo comments, though it's not unkindly. 

"So 'he,' then." KÍli does that attractive thing again where he waves his hand like a prince dismissing a subject, and tries to hurry along the discussion. "Right. He wanted me to make that Tess...eract. If I remember correctly, it's an Avenger's thing. Still haven't ha' the chance ta watch it yet."

KÍli, who is apparently easily sidetracked, grins. "I can loan it ta you, if you'd like. I got it on DVD last month." He sets the paper down beside Bofur's plate gingerly, and entirely unnecessarily. Bofur whistles appreciatively.

"Ain't got a TV, lad. But thank you for the offer," Bofur replies simply, picking at his food while examining the picture. KÍli nods sagely, out of respect, and Bofur feels more eccentric than he does homeless for a moment.

"Why not?" KÍli asks, flinching when Bilbo hisses a reprimand at him. Though Bilbo looks abashed when Bofur points out that eavesdropping isn't polite either. "Sorry."

Bofur shrugs it off, knowing that no offense was intended, and offering a spoonful of curry to KÍli who unthinkingly accepts it. Reckless is added to Bofur's mental checklist. "Don't have a home, so a TV would be a strange thing ta have."

That brings the younger man up short and he seems to struggle for something to say. Even Bilbo is lacking in the snark department. Bofur sighs, sets down his utensil and fixes first Bilbo and then KÍli with a hard stare. "Stop. I'm certainly not doin' all that bad. Now, as for this project, what size was Ori hopin' for?"

KÍli clears his throat and the conversation rolls on. "Something about this-" he gestures with his hands, making a decent sized box "-big. All the stops an' the likes."

"Ah, okay. That'll be a pretty big project. Tell Ori this, I can have it done in three weeks and the initial cost'll be fifty. Since yer college kids, I can negotiate it lower if need be," Bofur says slowly, still thinking it even as he's saying it. Bilbo makes a noise from where he's eating and Bofur pointedly ignores him.

"Oh, he'll just about flip his shit!" KÍli exclaims and Bofur has no idea if that's good or not. "Thank you, Mister Bofur."

He's out of the door in a rush, before Bofur can ask that he never call him mister again. "Well," Bilbo chimes from his seat as the other recovers from this social vertigo.

"Don't you dare," Bofur interrupts, shoveling a good bit of curry into his mouth. "I'm always this kind an' generous." Though with his mouth full it sounds much more muffled and less like words.

"I suppose his superior arse doesn't hurt," Bilbo drawls. 

Bofur pointedly ignores him and doesn't speak again until his food is finished. "Where do ya suppose I can get a hunk o' wood that size?"

Which is how Bofur ends up learning just how much shopping at Home Depot stresses Bilbo out.

He throws himself into this work, trading verbal jabs with Bilbo over his definite not-pining over KÍli, and nearly forgetting about the young man closer to the finishing point. It's not that there's anything wrong with the boy, it's mostly that he's so young.

And it's also that Gandalf seems to grin like a cat who caught the fish every single time the subject comes up. "You're getting there," he'll remark, which serves to only make Bilbo's amusement thrive.

Mutual suffering, the man had put it once. Though neither one knows why the old man is so hellbent on creating chaos. Bofur handles it with more good humor than Bilbo, who takes to sarcasm and sighs so much that he wonders about the man's lung capacity an uncomfortable number of times. 


	3. Chapter 3

Christmas Eve is absolute chaos. Last minute shoppers bombard poor Bilbo from the very opening of the shop and he refuses to simply ask Bofur for help, not wanting to be a bother. Bofur takes pity on him about halfway through the morning shift and offers his assistance with a cheeky grin that Bilbo pointedly ignores. Bilbo immediately puts on his business persona and tells Bofur he's going to look for any place that's still selling wrapping paper so he can set up a wrapping station. "Good for business," he assures Bofur, who wouldn't know otherwise even if it wasn't true.

Bofur, who knows by now that the Englishman is hard to dissuade from ideas, doesn't bother to point out that the only possible place that could be is Walmart. Instead, he hands him his stress ball and wishes him luck. It just so happens that as he's looking in the back room ten minutes later for a specific spearhead someone is looking for, that he finds four rolls of cutesy wrapping paper. 

He isn't sure if they're something Bilbo was hoping to save, so he doesn't use any of it; simply sets it on his work desk and goes back to helping customers. It's rather easy, he thinks, and most of the customers are civil with him. There are a few problems, about an hour after Bilbo leaves. A middle aged woman with wildfire hair and a curl to her lip that bodes ill storms up to the counter, effectively shoving a smaller man out of the way with her hip, slamming a book onto the counter so hard that for a moment Bofur fears the glass has cracked. 

"This book is bullshit!" she hisses, sliding the book across the glass so he can see the title better. It reads The Secret and if Bofur hadn't heard his brother's wife making such a big deal over the book a good few years back, the cover might have decieved him into thinking it was an interesting book. He can sympathize with the woman, though he's pretty sure she never bought it from this particular store. The only books Bilbo seems to sell are the old ones whose binding is nearly undone.

"Sorry to hear tha', ma'am," Bofur says brightly. "But what would ya like me to do about it?"

She fumes for a good ten seconds (Bofur counts) before picking it up and waving it in Bofur's face for emphasis as she speaks. "Refund my money! This... This drivel isn't worth the fifteen dollars I spent!"

"I would gladly do that if it was from this place. But we don't really sell books here," Bofur replies calmly, takin the book and looking at the back of it. "This is one o' those new age books, right?"

She nods tersely, seeming to keep her cool because of his cooperation.

"Have you tried Valinor across the road? Gandalf has a bunch o' those books in his place," he explains and waits patiently while realization dawns on her. She doesn't reply, seeming torn between embarrassment and residual anger. When she continues to stand there, Bofur smiles and hands her book back. "Now, if that's all I can help you with, I really should be gettin' back to these nice customers you cut in front o'."

After she leaves (rather in a hurry) things seem to go much more smoothly for about half an hour. One customer, who had been there for the escapade with the woman, even brings him a doughnut from down the street when it gets to lunch time and there's been no sign of Bilbo. The man has been searching each and every single shelf for something that strikes his fancy, and Bofur's left him to it. He really hadn't been expecting the man to bring him food.

"You look like you could use this," he says when Bofur tries to politely refuse the gift. "Besides, I figured I should get food while I wait for Uncle Bilbo."

Bofur startles at that and then narrows his eyes at the younger man, trying to see the resemblance. There isn't much. They've got the same roundish faces and curly hair, sure, and if Bilbo were younger his eyes would probably be just as large. But those are things you only notice by comparison. Nothing is strikingly similar. 

Other than their apparent inclination towards shortness. 

"I didn't know Bilbo had a nephew," Bofur says with a little bit of shock. 

The man chuckles. "That's the opposite of what I usually hear. Most of the time, when I meet a friend of my uncle's, they know more about me than I'd care to have them know."

"I fear I'm a bit new here. He probably is just gettin' warmed up before talkin' my ear off about you," Bofur is quick to amend not knowing how to toe the subject line of family in polite conversation. Especially with the English. 

"I feel I should apologize beforehand, because I know how hard it is to get him to stop," he says with a smile. "I'm Frodo, by the way."

He extends his hand, and the older man is glad to accept it. "Bofur. Pleasure to meet you, lad."

They continue to talk for a while, since the steady stream of customers seems to have died down with the lunch hour, and Bofur is happy to learn about Bilbo and his family. It's nothing terribly personal, just basic things. Frodo and his mother have lived in America since he was born and Bilbo followed soon after out of a desire to see more of the world. They live five blocks away, though Frodo spends most of his time in the city's large library taking his online classes. 

"What about you?" Frodo asks after telling a particularly interesting tale about the "goldfish incident" Bilbo would no doubt be mortified over. "I've not really heard mention of you. No offense, of course."

"None taken," Bofur says. "I've just been here but a month or two. Yer uncle hired me so I can get back on my feet, so to speak. I've been homeless comin' on four years now, and haven't been able to get a steady job 'till just recently."

Frodo looks more curious than anything else, so Bofur continues. "My family's back in Scottland, just my brother and cousin."

Luckily, he's spared from going into any more detail because Bilbo enters the shop in that moment with an armful of wrapping paper. "If it wasn't so bloody busy today, I'd close the shop right this instance. You wouldn't believe the lines at Walmart," Bilbo say by way of greeting, flitting about the counter. 

"Careful, uncle. People might think you're becoming unsociable in your old age," Frodo chimes from beside Bofur's desk. Bilbo pauses in tearing the plastic from one roll to grin at his nephew.

"Frodo! I had no idea you'd be coming over. I was just about to--" His eyes fall on the wrapping paper that Bofur had discovered earlier and he sighs in long suffering. "call your mother. How long have those been there, Bofur?"

Bofur pats the rolls and smiles. "Found 'em in the back room under one o' those odd taxidermy things."

"...Delightful," Bilbo says and Bofur wonders if the man has a way of checking his blood pressure. Bilbo spends a good few moments massaging the bridge of his nose and the other two exchange looks. "Bofur, Frodo, Gandalf invited us to a Christmas party tonight. Your mother too, of course, Frodo."

"Oh, no. I couldn't possibly—"

"Nonsense," Bilbo says with such surety that Bofur would feel rude protesting further. "It's just a small thing Gandalf does every year. You'll be fine."

Frodo gives him a sardonic look that tells him that it's far from a small thing, though he could have assumed that given that he hasn't known Gandalf to do anything small in his short amount of time knowing the man.

He was right in his assumptions, as it turns out, because they arrive at the large home a good twenty minutes away and it's crawling with people. Bofur immediately feels like a sore thumb. Everyone looks painfully beautiful, and alarmingly rich. 

Even Frodo and Bilbo fit in with everyone else seamlessly. Bilbo had offered to rent him a tux, but Bofur had absolutely refused. He had, mistakenly, assumed that the red button down shirt he'd splurged on and dark jeans would be enough. It may have been, if this wasn't actually a party of social piranhas. He had even tied his hair back and trimmed his mustache to a respectable length again. 

"I think they can smell the poor on me," Bofur whispers conspiratorially to the two men as they leave the taxi cab. Frodo snickers but Bilbo hushes him.

"You're over thinking this," he reprimands lightly. "These are all Gandalf's friends, and I can guarantee that they're all very nice people. Mostly. Just stick with me."

Which should be easy enough, except Bofur ends up mucking that bit of advice up right from the get go. He loses Bilbo in the throng of people in the living area of the home and can't find them because the company Gandalf keeps is annoyingly tall. 

He wanders around, and it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realize that a great deal of people are speaking in French. Or something akin to it. They seem to pay him no mind, however, so he finds an empty seat at an unoccupied table and takes to his hobby of people watching.

Everyone is having a good time, from the surface level of things, and Bofur is amused to observe that everyone seems to have color coordinated their outfits to match the decor of the house. All cream and scarlet with barely a hint of green. 

Their hand gestures are always slow and deliberate and every single person looks as if they know some great secret. It's annoying. Bofur is very annoyed and it's not something he's accustomed to. Usually he can just brush things off, but something about these people make his skin itch. 

He gets so caught up in rationalizing this new found prejudice that he doesn't notice he's been joined at the table until Gandalf clears his throat. Across from Bofur, beside Gandalf, sits a woman who looks to be in her early thirties. Like everyone else, she's beautiful, but even more so. Her hair looks naturally blonde and falls in perfect waves down her back, her eyes are bright and knowing. Annoyance flares up in him again and he feels ashamed of it.

"Bofur, I'd like you to meet someone," Gandalf says slowly, eyes running between the two of them. "This is Lady Gale Ladrinelle, an old friend of mine. Gale, this is Bofur. Though I don't quite know his surname."

Royalty. Of course Gandalf is friends with royalty. Bofur isn't sure the proper way to address royalty and is very relieved when she extends her hand to him. He brings the hand to his mouth, but doesn't actually kiss it, playing it safe. "It's an honor to meet you. Bofur Sangster, at your service."

"Gandalf tells me a lot about you," she says with a voice that's smooth and rich and devoid of any sort of accent and a smile that's surprisingly compassionate. 

Bofur clears his throat. "I don't imagine there's much to tell."

Her face is beautifully, annoyingly, perfectly knowing as she states, "You'd be surprised. I hear you caused quite a stir in the Durin family."

He blinks once, twice, three times before Gandalf cuts in. "He doesn't quite know about that yet, and I should think Thorin would like to keep it that way until he settles things with Bilbo. Speaking of, I think I see him now. Bofur, my lady."

Gandalf takes his leave, more questions left behind than answers in his usual fashion, though Lady Gale remains seated. 

"So tell me about yourself, Bofur," Lady gale implores with seemingly sincere interest.

Bofur writes this up as one of those days and begins to tell his tale once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little harder to justify the Elven names in a modern setting so I'm taking some liberties here. Lady Gale Ladrinelle is, of course, the lovely Galadriel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak a word of French.

The party is chaos. Controlled, very well hidden chaos. Bofur doesn't notice it until after he ends up in the heart of the gossip pool. Lady Gale had offered to escort him around, introducing him to people so he isn't left to himself at some random table. He hadn't thought it necessary at first, but now he's glad she was relentless in her insistence. At the present moment, he's in a small crowd of people, all seemingly calm but speaking rapidly and with no small amount of animosity. 

None of them are speaking English, but he can read body language and no one is happy right now. Save Lady Gale, who is looking on passively (further proving Bofur's silent theory that she's actually a goddess). He wants to ask her what's going on, but he knows it's none of his business, and he doesn't want anyone's attention on himself. 

A quick glance about the room finds Gandalf conversing closely with two twin males, all heads bowed together with the occasional gaze upwards. The twins are shorter than Gandalf, but built like athletes. There's a distinct set to their broad shoulders and their hair is dark and wild. They look less ethereal than a lot of the other people here, though there's no lack of beauty. Simply a humanness that the others seem to be lacking. But maybe that's Bofur's new found bias speaking.

He watches them for a few moments, though it might be longer because Lady Gale subtly leans in towards him and asks, "They truly are identical, aren't they?"

Caught on his staring, and slightly embarrassed at the fact that he hadn't even paid that much mind, Bofur glances away from them and tries to cover with a joke. "I wasn't aware 'til now that Gandalf seems ta hoard people with long hair as friends."

She chuckles lowly, and straightens back up as the debate before them seems to take a nasty turn. Lady Gale holds up a hand and the group settles into silence, seeming to anticipate her words. Even though he knows he won't understand what she's going to say, he finds himself eager to hear her words as well. 

"Laissez-le parler." The words come just as naturally to her as English and Bofur feels enamored. 

Another in the group, an older man with hair so gray it seems almost white, snarls something back with sharp. His voice is clipped and hands make tight gestures to emphasize the obvious point he's trying to make. He speaks too quickly for Bofur to even try and pick up on the words. 

Lady Gale narrows her eyes just so before she speaks withe deliberate slowness and a small amount of anger in her tone. "Ce n'est pas une préoccupation de la vôtre."

"Regardless of this, we seem to have forgotten something." It takes Bofur a small moment to realize they've switched back into English. A kindly gentleman in the group takes a step forward to draw the attention to himself, his face made attractive by age and experience rather than by lack of flaws. "There is a guest in our midst, and it's rather rude of us to exclude him in such a way, isn't it?"

Bofur tips his chin forward in recognition of the courtesy but places an easy smile into place in hopes of avoiding any aggression  "If it's important business to you, don't let me be in yer way."

The man with the white hair seems to take that as his queue to speak again, and hisses something out in annoyance. The kinder of the two waves him off in good humor, extending a hand to Bofur. "Elliot Ronald. Please forgive us for excluding you. I'm afraid we aren't the most polite of company."

"Bofur Sangster," he replies simply, a tilt to his mouth to match the spark of amusement in Elliot's eyes. "No skin off o' my nose. I'm not very interestin' company anyways."

"Now, that's not true, I'm sure." Bofur is beginning to suspect that Gandalf mentions him more than he'd like. "My rather sour friend here is Solomon Jacob. We're partners of Gandalf."

That brings Bofur up short. Immediately, his mind assumes the three are in a relationship and he has no idea what the proper response to that is. "That's, uh..."

"Business partners," Solomon cuts in, smile thin but not malicious. "We supply a lot of what Gandalf sells in his shop."

"Much," Elrond adds, "in the same way that you are partners with our dear Bilbo."

Bofur clears his throat lightly. "I wouldn't say tha'. I'd say I'm more an employee."

A hand is laid on his shoulder, and Bofur prides himself in his lack of a flinch this time. He doesn't need to look to see who it is. "Nonsense. You two are very much parnters." 

"Is Mr. Baggins aware of this?" Bofur jokingly inquires, though the joke falls a little flat at the end as the question sounds more sincere than not.

Gandalf levels him with a  look that says the two of them will be having words later, but he nods and claps Bofur on the back. "Of course! Speaking of the lad, I believe he was looking for you over by the chocolate fountain."

He gratefully takes the opportunity Gandalf has presented him. He tips his head towards the others. "It was a pleasure meetin' you."

"I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other," Lady Gale intones with finality just as he's walking away. He isn't too sure he wants that to happen. Nice as they seem, they take him far out of his comfort zone (which was pretty large to begin with).

True to word, Bilbo is picking strawberries off of a small plate when Bofur arrives, Frodo nowhere in sight. "I'm too old for these events," Bilbo confesses in lieu of a greeting.

"Gandalf seems to manage just fine," Bofur counters loftily. This earns him an elbow to the ribs. "Speaking o' the man, just how many important people are there in here?"

Bilbo laughs. "All of them, I suppose. They're all 'up there' as far as things go. It makes for a rather dull party."

"Dull," Bofur barks with a laugh. "You just said you couldn't even handle this. An excitin' party would shoot yer blood pressure through the roof, lad."

They share a laugh but Bilbo is quick to give him a mock glare once they settle down. "You're entirely too comfortable with me, I think."

Bofur swipes a couple of fruits from the buffet beside the fountain before replying, "Nah. You just make it too easy to mess with you."

He concedes the point and Bofur chalks that up as a win for him. Bilbo is usually the one winning such things, because his dry humor and quick wit are a slow sort of burn that really entertain Bofur. "Where's Frodo?"

Bilbo does a cursory scan of the room before giving up with a shrug. "With Aaron, I'd imagine. He's an old friend and they don't see each other often." Bofur nods, though he isn't sure who that is. "Fancy a drink?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Which is how they find themselves at a table near the bar two hours later, glasses of wine in hand and chins resting upon palms. "You should know better than ta give a homeless man alcohol," Bofur comments when the conversation has lulled into companionable silence. 

Bilbo looks up at this, eyes narrowing just slightly before he smiles and shakes his head. "That's not why you're homeless and you know it. Self deprecation doesn't suit you."

"No," he agrees, swirling the liquid around. He's only had one glass so far, not included the one he's currently nursing. Alcohol, while nice, seems to have lost it's appeal over the past few years. "I suppose it doesn't."

"Are we already at this point in the night?" Bilbo asks and immediately confuses his companion. He waves his hand around like that might illustrate the point he's trying to make. "That point in the night where we divulge secrets and confess life stories."

Bofur chuckles. "I sure hope not."

"Just one question." And Bofur supposes he can't begrudge him that. "Where do you... go about your life? I only see you on the divan maybe once or twice a week."

"There's an old factory twenty minutes out. I've been sleepin' in there. There's a gym beside it an' they let me shower there before openin' and after closin'. Most o' the time, though, I just like to walk around the city."

Bilbo nods and doesn't say anything else for a good long while. Bofur keeps his silence as well, until the clock strikes twelve. "Merry Christmas, Bilbo."

"Merry Christmas," he replies with a large grin.

They're mature adults and as such, don't bother with anything more than that.

And half an hour later, because they are mature and grown adults, neither one of them owns up to the Harry Potter themed sex toy they chipped in to buy Gandalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite things to do is come up with alternate names for some of the characters (mostly ones who don't play a major role in the story). Elrond, Saruman, and Aragorn are Elliot, Solomon, and Aaron respectively.


	5. Chapter 5

The first time Bofur wakes up he sees a horrifyingly white ceiling, sun reflecting off of it into his eyes. He flinches back underneath the warm comforter before his mind (slowly) catches up with him and he nearly flings himself over the edge of the bed he's occupying. A snore sounds softly beside him, barely loud enough to count as a snore, but glaringly loud in the otherwise silent room. 

Eyebrows furrowed, he turns his head to survey his bed mate  He's not surprised to see Bilbo sleeping soundly beside him, hands folded over his chest and hair a wild mess. Though he had imbibed more than he ever has in four years the prior night, he can remember just about everything. Save for how he ended up in this bed with Bilbo. 

The lack of tasteful or modern decor pretty much indicates that this is Bilbo's own bedroom above the shop. Bofur knows he should be responsible, wake Bilbo up so they can start the day. But it's been a good while since he's slept off a hangover in a very comfortable bed and he decides to lay back down and pretend this moment of wakefulness never happened. 

The second time Bofur wakes up, it's to a nearly inhuman grumbling noise beside him. He rolls onto his side to watch as Bilbo goes through the stages of awakening. First is denial, rubbing his eyes and laying back down. Next is panic, sitting up abruptly with a cut off cry. Third is a hangover-specific step in which he clutches at his head and slumps back down to the bed. Fourth is realization, glancing over at Bofur with something in between embarrassment and exasperation.

"So," Bofur chimes cheerfully.

"Good god, man, shut up," Bilbo gruffs. He then pauses to let Bofur speak because he's still ridiculously polite, even when breaking through the daze of a hangover. 

"How'd I end up in your bed?" Bilbo glances down at the bed as if just now remembering their exact location. 

He feels over the blankets, glances around at the walls, and then shakes his head. "This is one of Gandalf's guest rooms, I think. We never left the party for some reason."

"So how'd I end up in here with you?" Bofur reiterates. It's not really a concern for him. Sleeping on the streets and in shelters really dims one's concept of what's proper and what's not. He really just like how uncomfortable such questions make Bilbo feel. "If I'd known you were courtin' me this whole time, I would've just saved you the trouble."

Bilbo catches on to his teasing rather quickly for a man who still isn't aware that he has pillow wrinkles on his face. "You were insisting that you weren't well acquainted with Gandalf enough to sleep in his house. Thought you were imposing."

"Sounds about right."

The other man waves him off. "Anyways, you're surprisingly compliant after a shot of tequila. It was really easy to get you to sleep with me after that."

Bofur waits patiently.

"...No. No, no, no. No. Not like that," Bilbo retracts as he realizes just how bad that sounded. "I just wanted to be sure that you wouldn't have another guilt trip and leave after I fell asleep. You don't have any cash on you for a cab."

Bofur nods sagely. "And how did I end up in these night clothes?"

"You are really, really malleable when drunk. Like a little kid. I did have to help you with the shirt, though. You buttoned it rather disgracefully."

"Sh'up," Bofur mumbles as he lies back down. It's far too early for Banter With Bilbo, he decides, and says so to his companion.

"Hear, hear. But we really should get up. Gandalf usually has breakfast set out in the morning since no less than twenty people always stay the night at parties like these."

Bofur begins the ten step process to waking up by rolling onto his stomach. He then rewards himself for completing that step by closing his eyes and waving a hand at Bilbo. Coincidentally, steps two through eight consist purely of Bilbo badgering him to wake up. Step nine is actually getting out of the bed.

"God help us all," he grumbles. "Where's our normal clothes? All's here is a weird tunic lookin' thing and some girl pants."

Bilbo clears his throat and Bofur turns to see him holding up an outfit of a similar fashion. Very middle ages, he thinks. "Gandalf favors these kinds of clothes. Comes with the territory of being a wizard, I guess."

Bofur nods as if that's a normal statement and begins to undress. "Wait. Wizard?"

"Magician, sorcerer, what have you. He does magic and not the stage kind. It's all pretty bland and tame, from what I can tell, but apparently he's "up there" in the occult community."

"...You're serious."

"Yes."

Bofur sighs, takes all that information in, lets it process, and then nods. "Okay."

They get dressed slowly, not really favoring large and fast movements, and Bilbo nearly blows a fuse trying to lace his girl-pants. Bofur ends up kneeling in front of him to tie them himself, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Bilbo goes beet red and looks up at the ceiling.

"I dunno if it's simply my good nature, or if you're not quite all there, Mr. Baggins," Bofur begins lightly, "but you seem to be in the habit of makin' bad choices when it comes to me. Lettin' me stay in your shop, sharin' a bed with me. Askin' me to lace your breeches. You'd think you were really friendly, which I know you're not, makin' a move- also not likely- or simply stupid."

"You're trustworthy enough," Bilbo counters with a sniff. "And have any of these choices panned out to be bad ones? Besides, who said I'm not making a move on you? I'm a healthy adult male, and you're not unattractive."

Bofur barks out a laugh. "Oh, Mr. Baggins, you sure know how ta flatter a man." He continues on before Bilbo can get indignantly flustered and defend his point. "Yer not so bad yerself. I wouldn't mind a tumble." He finishes the laces and stands, patting Bilbo on the shoulder with an easy smile.

"No, no. When's the last time you brushed your teeth?" he asks teasingly, still friendly, smiling in triumph when Bofur laughs. 

"Since when do the English care so much about dental hygeine, hm?" Bofur counters, walking with Bilbo into the hallway.

"I'll have you know that-..." he trails off, and Bofur follows his line of sight to the distraction. A shorter man is coming down the hall with smoothed black hair flecked with gray, looking less worse for wear than the two of them, but also carrying a scowl like an axe. "Bugger it all."

Bofur's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Wild guess here: crazy ex?"

"Ha! I could only hope," Bilbo says with no small amount of wistfulness. "More like the man I completely screwed over in the business world while actually attempting to catch his attention."

"It's too early and I'm too hungover to rationalize that, but it sounds about as awful as somethin' can get. Is he angry with you, then?"

Bilbo doesn't cower behind Bofur, because he's a grown man and as such can conduct himself with poise and respect. That said, he absolutely does drag Bofur down the hallway at an alarming speed so as to get as far away from the man as possible. Once they're in the dining area, which is steadily being filled with people and food, he explains. "No, he isn't angry. He's owns a bunch of businesses and such, so one little shop isn't really skin off of his nose. It's more like... while trying to apologize to him I may have confessed a desire to suck him senseless and well. I haven't talked to him since."

Bofur absolutely doesn't laugh, though it's a near thing. "Ah."

"Don't laugh. His nephew's the one whose arse you were eyeing not too long ago." It takes a moment for that to register and when his mouth drops open, Bilbo laughs. "In fact, I saw him flitting around here with a pretty young lady last night. I didn't have the heart to break it to you."

Bofur huffs out a chuckle and makes way to the apples. "I think I'm grown enough to handle such tragic an' terrible news. It's not like I ever said more'n two words to the lad, besides."

As luck would have it, once they've seated themselves and get into their meals (and into a debate over waffles versus muffins), Kíli approaches their table with another male in tow, blond and regal. "That's his brother, Fíli," Bilbo helpfully supplies. "Their mother had a thing for Norse mythology."

The brothers take a seat at their table with mumbled greetings, obviously more hungover than the older men across from them. Bofur waves a hand in greeting and Bilbo merely smiles in acknowledgement.

"Mister Bilbo," Kíli begins, and said man rolls his eyes at the formality. "My uncle was looking to talk to ya today. Said something about a business meetin' that's going down."

Bilbo clears his throat at the knowing look the dark haired man gives him. "Yes, um. I had heard of that. See, the thing is, I was going to show Bofur around town."

"Were you?" Bofur asks, purposefully sabotaging Bilbo's excuse. "Cause I can tell ya, I've been through town more times than I care to count. Unless you were takin' me up on that offer from before."

Bofur would be dead twenty times over if Bilbo were a less civil man. As it is, he settles for sending a chilling glare to him. "I suppose that's true. Still, the shop is closed until after New Years and I would hate to leave you all to yourself for a full day. God knows what you'd get up to."

"I resent that," Bofur quips without really thinking about it at the same time that Fíli speaks up for the first time and says: "We'll take him."

Kíli grins and pounds a fist to the table in agreement. "Yes! Tha's a great idea. Ori is havin' tha' movie marathon party today, isn't he? And I've been wantin' to show Mister Bofur here The Shake."

Bofur glances helplessly at Bilbo and mouths 'the shake' with exaggerated confusion. Bilbo hides his laugh with a cough. "Oh, no. I'd hate to impose on you lads." Bilbo gives him a look that says he knows how much he'd enjoy imposing on them and Bofur casually flicks a raisin at him.

"No such thing," Fíli counters. And Bofur is really starting to get suspicious of his insistence, considering how little they know of each other. He decides to chalk it up to friendliness that runs in the family.

"Then, it's settled. We'll take Bofur with us." A silent prayer is sent out in thanks of being called by simply his name. "An' you can deal with our uncle."

Both Bofur and Bilbo can't help but think this is something akin to a death sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. The next chapter will be nothing but relationship building, I promise. And not just Bilbo and Bofur becoming the most ridiculous of friends.


	6. Chapter 6

Bilbo, despite his desire to keep himself as far away from Thorin as possible, decided that revenge was a much more satisfying venture and willingly (cheerfully) sent Bofur on his way with Kíli and Fíli. Said man now finds himself cursing the other as he trails behind the brothers who are whispering to one another enthusiastically. They, apparently, don’t have any reserves about excluding him from a conversation. 

Which is fine, because he isn't sure he'd be able to keep up with them judging by the rate of their words. He keeps his hands stuffed into his pockets (and curses that he never thought to bring a coat as the winter air seeps into his skin). Every once in a while, Kíli will glance back at him conspiratorially  sending a friendly smile his way once he catches his attention. Assuming they met Ori through their university, Bofur concludes that they’re heading to the main campus. Bofur’s walked around the city enough times to know the three main universities, and the direction they’re going is taking them towards the smaller university. 

“Listen, if a man named Leslie offers ya anythin' at all," Kíli begins. 

"Don't accept it," Fíli finishes. His eyes trail over Bofur and his lips quirk upwards. "I see Gandalf got to you."

Bofur glances down at his outfit, still not used to being conscious of what he's wearing and forgetting about this mysterious Leslie. Unsure if he's being mocked or teased, and not really caring, he jokes it off. "Makes my legs look nice, I think."

That gets a laugh out of Kíli and his brother even gives him a reserved smile. "See, I told ya it would be a good idea to bring him along, Fee."

Fíli holds his hands up in surrender. "I never doubted it. All I said was that I don't know who he is. Still don't. Besides, Ori was the one who brought up inviting him."

The darker haired brother comes back to link arms with Bofur and pull him forward to walk between the brothers, grinning. Bofur goes along with it, mostly for lack of an idea of what else to do. He's used to friendliness, and unfriendliness. He's not quite used to personal space invading friendliness from a near-stranger. A hot near-stranger. He sees Fíli roll his eyes beside him (and holy shit, they're both taller than him) and isn't sure why. 

"Well, here," Kíli declares. "This is Mister Bofur. Mister Bofur, this is my brother Fíli."

Bofur nods in greeting at him, now formally acquainted. "Nice to meet you. But, you don't need to call me mister."

"Likewise," Fíli says, extending a hand to him. Bofur shakes it with a smile. "Feel free to call me whatever you like."

"Fíli works just fine for me."

The blond nods contentedly, and Bofur wonders if the brothers are in such contrast in every aspect of their lives. Or if maybe he's a factor in their behaviors and normally they're different. As it is currently, it seems like Fíli is the quieter and calmer of the two, whereas Kíli is exuberant and less mature. Aside from that, their hair colors are near opposites. Fíli keeps a beard whereas Kíli does not. Fíli ties his hair back and his brother chooses to not.

This is all just observation from one instance of having them together, so Bofur isn't going to make any conclusions from it. He just finds it interesting that, since the brothers seem to be so close, they're not very alike. 

"Today is goin' to be fun," Kíli declares suddenly. 

(Nearly at the same exact time, in a place not too far from where the trio finds themselves, an older man sits in a group of stuffy businessmen, groaning, "Today is going to be absolute shit.")

"Let's hope so," Fíli says as they approach their campus. The buildings are low to the ground, long instead of tall, with more windows than walls. It looks modern and sleek, and very intimidating. 

Their specific dorm is the largest building there, a good twelve floors, with more silver and less brick. Bofur almost feels like he's time travelling, until he gets inside. It's less futuristic in the lobby, looking like just about every hotel in the world, save for some metal furniture. 

Kíli enthusiastically begins telling Bofur all about their Cards Against Humanity nights they have in the lobby, and the older man really wishes he knew about this game because it would probably be a much better tale if he was privy to it. He goes off on a particular tangent about the one time a boy named Dale put down Hitler while there was a Jewish girl playing and this huge argument broke out, and Bofur feels so helplessly lost yet completely enamored. 

"And Fee ended up punchin' him in the face because he said I looked like a woman, and Ori was so livid that I really thought he might just throw down with the man," Kíli chokes out in between laughter at the end pf the story, just as they arrive at the eleventh floor.

Bofur's not sure if he should laugh as well, and glances at Fíli for help. He just shakes his head after  a fond look towards his brother.

"Ahhh, ya had to be there."

"Sounds like plenty of fun," he concedes, though he doubts he would have been able to play the game correctly. It seems like the point is to make the most offensive phrases, and that's not something he actively tries to achieve. Fíli snorts beside him and mouths 'not at all,' making Bofur smother a laugh with a cough.

Kíli catches on to their exchange, however, and elbows his brother as they exit the elevator. "Fee just doesn't like it because his girlfriend doesn't."

"Ex girlfriend," Fíli states in monotone, and Bofur thinks he would very much like to be with Bilbo in this moment because Kíli looks downright scandalized.

Luckily, their destination is just down the hall and Bofur can talk to Ori instead of being a third wheel to their private conversation. 

Said man greets them in a dress, a lopsided, nervous grin on his face. "Hello! I wasn't sure if you would be coming along. I might've put on some tea if I had. Come in!"

Bofur inclines his head politely as brushes past the younger boy as he enters. The room looks like controlled chaos. It's clean, but completely cluttered with possessions, like someone attempted to clean but had nowhere to put everything. Ori closes the door behind him, leaving the brothers to have their discussion outside, before flitting over to where Bofur stands. 

"Feel free to have a- Oh, bother." Ori rushes over to the couch where someone is lying down underneath a lump of blankets. "Legs, get up! We're doing that movie thing today and I won't have you keeping our guests on the floor."

"Legs?" Bofur asks in surprise. 

Ori pauses in tugging the blankets from 'Legs' to give him a goofy smile. "Leslie. He's my roommate. Don't ask me why he insists on being called that."

"Probably has a lot to do with all of the pot he smokes," Fíli rumbles from the doorway as he and his brother enter the room. Kíli elbows him sharply and hisses something about subtlety.

Bofur, who had assumed at least that when the brothers warned him against accepting anything, shrugs. "No business of mine. I'm not one to go about talkin' to cops, anyways."

Kíli makes to speak, but gets distracted by the commotion Ori is making in his attempt to drag him roommate from the furniture. He slides past his brother and Bofur, scooping his arms under the lounging man and lifting him off of the couch and depositing him on the floor. "This everyone, Ori?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to put the couch out in the hallway like last time, so I only invited you three." Bofur doesn't think the room looks small enough for that to seem remotely necessary, so he figures it must have been a large party. Ori kneels before the television and fiddles with hooking up his laptop to the television. Fíli takes a seat on the couch beside where his brother has sprawled, waving Bofur over. 

There doesn't seem to be very much room, just a small crack between Kíli and Fíli, and he isn't sure where they're expecting him to sit. Kíli makes the decision for him, however, tugging on his wrist until he's squeezed between the two after nearly tripping over the comatose man still on the ground. 

When he glances down at him, he's very surprised to see that he's actually awake; simply staring in contentment towards the ceiling. "Hello."

Legs lifts a hand in greeting before letting it drop to rest on his cheek. "'Lo."

Kíli leans towards him to whisper not-so-quietly, "That's the most he ever says."

They both look down at Legs, who nods an affirmative. Kíli waggles his eyebrows as if to say 'I told you so' and Bofur snorts a very unattractive laugh. Ori finishes with the set up a few moments later and scurries to seat himself on the floor beside his roommate as the movie begins.

"I'll fill ya in on anythin' ya don't get," Kíli offers in an actual whisper.

Bofur nods. "That'd be much appreciated."

And it is, as he loses track of the characters nearly ten minutes into The Avengers. Kíli is more than happy to explain things to him, with added side comments that have Bofur holding in laughter because he's been warned that Fíli hates when people laugh at unfunny moments in a movie. 

"Iron Man is basically a class A narcissist," Kíli says lowly when Bofur asks about why no one seems to like him. "But he's also a super genius, which I think is the actual reason why people don't like him."

Bofur doesn't take his eyes off of the screen as he replies, "Pretty sure it's because he's a dick."

Fíli, who they both assumed was ignoring them, laughs. That sets off a chain reaction wherein Kíli makes a noise and waves a finger at his brother accusingly, Ori shushes them, and Legs mumbles something about peace. The movie is forgotten for a brief moment as Kíli reigns victory over his brother, but they soon settle back down just as Bruce Banner is introduced. 

"Woah," Bofur says under his breath. 

"I know," Kíli says in agreement, and the two share a grin. 

Ori rolls his eyes before butting in with, "Black Widow is way more attractive."

Fíli nods his agreement.

This sets off another, less heated, debacle where Kíli and Bofur struggle to defend the under appreciated good looks of Bruce. They lose the flexibility debate but win the overall battle when Bofur points out that Bruce would be into tantric sex and have a lot of stamina. Kíli high fives him for that and Ori relents with a sigh. Fíli had dropped out of the argument a few minutes earlier in favor of watching the movie. 

Bofur is glad that they all can get along like this without much awkwardness. He had been concerned before that his age would make the others feel as if they'd have to compose themselves. Apparently, that isn't an issue for them because they haven't really held back anything as far as Bofur can tell. 

He's especially glad for that because Kíli and he are getting along spectacularly. He has to remind himself that, however nice it would be, he's possibly too old to be concerning himself with dating a college student. Maybe if he were the casual encounter type, he would. But he's never been much into one night flings. 

He pulls himself from those thoughts, deciding that he'd at least like to befriend this ragtag group. It'd be nice to actually have friends in this city as opposed to the last one, and they're an interesting bunch to top it all off. 

The movie continues on without any more outbreaks from anyone, though Kíli still supplies information when needed. When the movie ends, Ori reluctantly stands from his spot to return to his laptop. "Which one do you guys want to watch next?"

"The Room!" Kíli demands, with resounding groans from everyone save Bofur. "Oh, come on. We can't have Bofur leave here not knowin' what it is."

They all decide that's fair enough, having declared it some sort of initiation, and Ori digs it out of the recesses of his Videos folder.

Bofur ends up rolling off of the couch due to excessive laughter, Kíli following right after, about five minutes into the movie. By the end of it, the two are clutching at their stomachs and warring between groans of pain and laughter.

"You two are certainly a pair," Fíli comments once the horror of that movie ends and they slowly drag themselves back onto the couch. "Never thought I'd meet someone who so thoroughly enjoys that movie as much as Kíli does."

"It's a work of cinematic genius," Bofur defends.

"Oh, god," Ori groans from the ground. "Don't feed into Kíli's idiocy."

"Can't make any promises," he replies, and turns his head to see Fíli regarding him oddly. He raises his eyebrows and the blond shakes his head with a quirk to his lips.

The debate for the next movie turns out to be rather fierce and Bofur backs down once it gets down to just the brother. Kíli practically crawls over Bofur to smush his hand into Fíli's cheek and Fíli retaliates by jabbing him in the side.

Bofur almost considers breaking it up before they resort to blows, but then the pair dissolves into laughter and Kíli relents, sinking back into his seat. Fíli seems more at ease now than before, Bofur noticing for the first time that the man had been tense previously. 

"RENT it is," Ori says with a resigned tone to his voice.

Bofur soon finds out why, when Kíli, Fíli and Legs all sing every word to every song in boisterous voices. 

He's never had so much fun in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone mentioned to me that there are some inconsistencies with the way some of the characters speak. I'm not sure how many people noticed and/or cared, but I thought I'd clear up that I did it on purpose. Not for any major reason, I just think that some people speak inconsistently and wanted to put that into the story. Also, Legs is absolutely Legolas.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they get into the sixth movie, Fíli and Legs have drifted into the bedroom area to find something more entertaining to do. Bofur doesn't make any assumptions, though he's pretty sure they went to smoke. He's startled from his intense concentration on the sinking of the Titanic when Fíli taps him on the shoulder.

Bofur is surprised to see him extending a phone to him and he stands to take the call outside of the room. He already has a sneaking suspicion of who it is, and is proven correct when his greeting is cut off by a strained, "I don't suppose you could feign a life threatening injury sometime soon."

"Hello to you, too, Mister Boggins," Bofur greets, reveling in the frustrated noise that gets out of the other man. "Things aren't goin' well, I take it."

The long drawn out sigh tells him all he needs to know, and also indicates that an even longer rant is soon to follow, so Bofur seats himself on the hallway floor and relaxes. "Not unless you count an entire financial crisis as well, no. I'm still shaky as to why I'm in this meeting in the first place, since I'm not much for the business world outside of my own little shop, though I have suspicions that it's just so I won't be able to run away from Thorin when it concludes. He chose the seat right by the door. Very strategic, that one. I bet he's even got a knife or two hidden in his trousers just for me."

Bofur maturely keeps from commenting on the very obvious set up, not sure if Bilbo is aware of it himself. He makes a noise to let Bilbo know he's still listening, but unwilling to interrupt and he continues after a few deep breaths. "So anyways. They're all discussing something over a cup of coffee so I decided to sneak away and beg you for an excuse to leave before he corners me. Because I think they're almost done here."

"I'm not sure how you expect me to get back there in time, Bilbo," Bofur says with earnest helplessness. "But I think maybe you should talk to him. Yer a lot tougher than you give yerself credit for, and what's the worst he can do to ya?"

Bilbo is silent for a moment before replying, "Punch me in the face."

Bofur laughs into the receiver. "This isn't primary school, Bilbo. An' if it was, it'd just means he likes you too."

"Bofur."

"Alright, alright. Yer overthinkin' this. It might be awkward and uncomfortable, sure, but it won't cost you yer life. I've only known you a short while, and I don't think you'll ever be able to purchase wallpaper for yerself, but I know you can handle talkin' to him."

There's silence, followed by an awed, "Wow, that's... surprisingly helpful."

"I am known, on occassion, to be of use to people," Bofur jokes. "Now, maybe you should go before you get caught gettin' a pep talk."

Bilbo chuckles under his breath. "Yeah, I suppose. Will you be coming back here?"

"Nah. It's not all that late and I figured I'd treat myself to some actual coffee as a Christmas gift."

There's a long silence and Bofur can practically hear Bilbo debating with himself over what to say next. "Alright. I'll leave the shop unlocked."

He hangs up before Bofur can protest and he groans. Now he'll have no choice but to at least stop by the shop to lock it up for Bilbo, because he's nothing if not stubborn (if a little unorthodox in his shop-keeping methods). And Bofur is notoriously bad at resisting the divan after a particularly busy sort of day, just like this one.

He stands and finds Kíli hovering a few feet away, looking embarrassed for having been caught eavesdropping. Bofur lifts a hand in greeting, not really minding that he'd been there, though he hadn't noticed. "Going out?"

Kíli accepts the phone as Bofur holds it out to him and props open the door enough to toss it inside. They both ignore the annoyed shout from inside. "Yeah. Haven't had Starbucks in nearly a year. Figured I deserved at least this much."

The younger man looks scandalized, though it's suspiciously exaggerated. "Starbucks? I can't have ya drinking that corporate sludge when there's a perfectly amazing cafe I happen to know of that's a few blocks away. If you, uh, don't mind me tagging along, that is."

"Not at all," Bofur assures him with a broad grin and a friendly clap on the shoulder. Kíli returns it and they both re-enter Ori's dorm room to say their goodbyes. "You'll have to lead the way, though."

Ori looks up from the notebook he's scribbling in, the movie long since forgotten. "You're leaving?"

They both nod and Ori stands and brushes out his dress, hurrying over to them. "Thank you both for coming." Kíli snorts and that and Ori swats at his arm. "Thank you, Bofur, for coming."

"Thanks for havin' me, lad. It was fun," he compliments, making Ori beam.

"Oh, we'll be dragging ya back here soon enough," Kíli says with confidence. Ori nods in agreement. 

"If only to have someone to keep Kíli from harassing the rest of us," Ori teases.

It's a long process, leaving Ori's room. Longer than Bofur would have thought, since Ori insists on sending them off with biscuits and Fíli spends five minutes giving Bofur a talk about getting his brother back safely, much to the younger's embarrassment. 

When they finally get out of the room, Kíli ends up dragging Bofur down to his room for a spare coat because he's "had experiences with those pants in this weather" and "wouldn't want your balls to freeze off." Bofur concedes that it would be a shame to human kind if that were to happen, though he's adamant that the coat will be returned to Kíli.

Kíli insists that he wait in the hallway while he grabs the coat, mumbling about a mess of boxes. When Bofur asks about it outside of the campus, Kíli explains that he and his brother are renting a flat about a block off campus and are in the process of moving. Bofur doesn't comment on how endearing it is that he's worried about a homeless man finding his living space appalling. 

The walk to the cafe itself is slow and they spend half of the time shielding themselves from frosty winds. They joke about some things, and at one point even start a serious discussion about Bilbo and Thorin ("Oh they're definitely in love," Kíli says offhandedly.), before they're back onto less serious things like zombie apocalypses ("I'd be fine because I store my money in my shoes." Kíli grimaces with amusement. "That's disgusting." Bofur shrugs.).

When they arrive at the cafe, a little after eight, it's nearly crowded with people. Bofur can see the appeal of it. It's in the center of a very busy block, with a large viewing window beside the tables and chairs set out for lounging. It's warm inside, and decorated in browns and oranges to add to the atmosphere. Bofur nods his approval at Kíli's imploring look. 

He ends up ordering the largest peppermint drink they own, and he's grateful when Kíli doesn't insist on paying for him. Kíli himself orders something with a name Bofur can't identify, though it smells delicious when they sit down at a table beside the window and he gets a whiff of it. 

Bofur glances out the window and sees a blonde woman talking on her cellphone with what looks like agitation. He catches Kíli's attention and points her out. "Widow. About thirty. She's talking to her sister about the fourth blind date that's gone horribly wrong. She blames her sister's poor taste." The woman's gestures get more rapid and heated. "Now her sister is blamin' her poor attitude."

Kíli's eyebrows shoot up. "Do you know her?"

"No. It's a game I like to play when I'm out an' about, though usually I'm alone. You just pick a person and make up a life story for 'em. You should give it a shot."

He nods and looks back towards the outside. A balding man leans against the wall beside the window and lights a cigarette. Kíli points to him, not so subtly, and Bofur follows his line of sight. "I'd say he's in his forties, businessman. He probably hates his job, but on the weekends he joins up with his motorcycle gang. Sleeves of tattoos."

Bofur laughs quietly, taking a long drink of his coffee and reveling in the warmth that flows through him. "Very nice."

"This is actually really fun." The man leaves and another, taller one is soon standing in front of the window with a windbreaker on and looking pensive. "I bet he's a superhero. But his super power is only making people love themselves, so no one really considers him a hero. But he still does it, because he loves making people happier with their lives."

After a moment of stunned silence, during which Kíli looks distinctly uncomfortable, Bofur smiles softly. "That's the best one, I think."

Kíli's grin stretches across his face and they continue on with their game until the cafe announces that they'll be closing soon and they reluctantly take their leave. The walk back to Kíli's campus is in companionable silence, shoulder-to-shoulder with occasional comments. 

Bofur walks him to his dorm lobby and Kíli is reluctant to let him go all the way back to the shop by himself. "I'm thirty three, Kíli, I think I can handle myself."

After assuring the younger man fifty times that he knows the way back just fine, and that he's versed in self defense, he leaves with a promise to return Kíli's coat on their next meeting. 

When he arrives back at the shop, the doors are locked and he assumes that Bilbo still hasn't made it back yet. Instead of going back to where he normally sleeps because of the longer walk, he decides to wait outside of the shop for Bilbo. He hadn't accounted on falling asleep, though he doesn't do much to try and stop it when the cold sets in and he can't do much more than close his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to drag this chapter out of my brain, and it came kicking and screaming, so I can't promise anything fantastic. I'll make the next chapter much longer and interesting to compensate.

Bofur wakes up to insistent hands on his shoulders and a harried voice in his ear, and he mumbles under his breath as his eyes open to Bilbo's worried face framed with painfully white sunlight. Upon the opening of his eyes, his friend's face washes over with relief before guilt soon takes over.

"Bofur, I am so, so sorry," Bilbo says, hands still on his shoulders.

He sits up, only just remembering where he is. The sidewalk was not kind to him in the least through the night, and what parts of himself he can feel are sore. His fingers are numb, and when he lifts them up to examine them, their a startling purplish-blue. Bilbo makes a strangled noise at the sight and Bofur realizes the man had spoken to him. 

"S'fine. I was the clot who stayed here instead o' goin' back," Bofur says after clearing his throat a good five times. It still comes out ragged and painful. "What time is it, anyways?"

"No, it is not fine. I know how far away that place is. You would have had to walk a good hour, not to mention how long it probably took you to get here from the boys' place." Bilbo helps him to his feet, supporting him when Bofur's legs go to jelly and he nearly falls on his face. "Oh, look at you. I'm surprised you don't have frost bite."

Bofur chuckles and shakes his head softly as they make their way into the shop, after a lot of struggling from Bilbo who can't do anything one handed. "It wasn't that cold out. No less than thirty, I'd bet."

Bilbo will hear none of it, insisting on making him soup and covering him with every blanket he owns. Bofur reluctantly accepts this coddling because he can already feel a  cold coming on and Bilbo gets slightly less guilty once he feels he's rectifying the situation. 

So it happens that after an hour of manhandling Bofur back onto his chair and confiscating his tools that they finally open shop. No one shows up right away, unsurprisingly, and Bofur feels a bit curious. "So why didn't you come back, if you don't mind me askin'?"

Bilbo gets that guilty look again and Bofur sighs heavily until Bilbo agrees to stop apologizing. "I, uh. I stayed with Thorin."

Bofur's eyebrows shoot far into his hairline at that. "Didn't know you had it in you."

"Oh, not like that," Bilbo states with no small amount of disappointment in his voice. "We talked all night about business plans and family matters. It was all terribly chaste. We even talked about you for a while."

"Well then it's no wonder you didn't get laid," he jokes.

"Anyways,"Bilbo continues, and Bofur holds out his hands. "I ended up falling asleep on Gandalf's couch with him. Woke up at dawn and had a minor panic attack when I realized I left the shop locked."

Bofur laughs into his spoonful of soup at the mental image that sentence presented. "An' now here we are."

Bilbo nods, a wistful look plastered onto his face so comically that Bofur laughs again. "How did your night with the boys go? Not as terribly as you seemed to think it would be, I hope."

"It was nice," Bofur replies, sniffling into a handkerchief. "They're nice kids."

"Hardly kids," Bilbo mutters.

He's given a shrug at that, a wry smile on Bofur's face. "Fair enough. We watched some movies an' Kíli explained half o' them to me."

Bilbo doesn't say much after that, save for a few teasing comments and one sincere congratulations on a successful social venture, and they soon lapse into a comfortable silence until customers arrive.

Bofur gets a few odd looks, being little more than a pile of blankets with facial hair at this point, but a few regulars fuss over him and one older woman comes back with a large pint of soup from a local deli. It's all a bit overwhelming and Bilbo finds Bofur's bewilderment so endearing that he doesn't have the heart to tease him about it. 

"They like you. You grow on people quickly. Like moss," Bilbo says after the third offer of food or medicine.

"Moss grows slowly."

All in all, it's a nice day. Bofur ends up feeling worse rather than better  by the end of it, but he can hardly complain. Bilbo had even given him his carving tools back if only to make him stop fussing and singing, and Bofir has started working on his Tesseract project again. 

About an hour before closing, Kíli comes sauntering in with a grin on his face though it slides away upon sighting Bofur. Said man has shed one blanket, but only to use it as a pillow and drool/snot mop. He's snoring lightly and Kíli huffs out a laugh.

"Hello, Bilbo," he greets quietly. The shop-keep raises a hand in greeting. "I was going ta ask him something, but I suppose I can just have ya relay a message for me."

Bilbo fusses around for a piece of paper, mostly out of habit. "Shoot."

"I was hopin' that Bofur would be interested in going ta see a movie with me next weekend. I need someone ta make fun of the horror movies with, and Ori's too much of a wuss."

The pen hover above the paper for a moment before Bilbo clears his throat and scribbles something down, looking up with a shaky smile. "Right, yes. I'll, uh. I'll pass along the message. And I'm sure he'd love to go along with you."

"Thanks, Bilbo!"

Kíli retreats from the shop, waving emphatically. Bilbo returns the gesture with much less enthusiasm, but once the boy is out of sight he laughs. "I cannot wait to see your face, Bofur."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop is doing this thing where the screen goes black in the middle of my typing sometimes, so this is as much as I got finished before rage quitting. Admittedly, it's quite a bit.

Bilbo waits until that Wednesday to tell Bofur about Kíli stopping in. It isn't really intentional, mostly the product of him being too busy and far too forgetful. So when Bofur comes into the shop just as it opens that morning, Bilbo greets him with: "You have a date this weekend."

Bofur pauses with his hand on the door and glances behind him before casting an incredulous look at him. "Sorry, what?"

"A date," he repeats with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Kíli stopped by last week while you were asleep and asked me to ask you if you wanted to see a movie with him this weekend."

A heavy sigh works its way out of Bofur and he scrubs a hand tiredly over his face as he goes to take a seat at his work desk. Movies are great. Kíli is, admittedly, great. Even going to a movie with Kíli would be great. But suddenly the word date is added and Bofur finds the entire prospect less than enticing. "I doubt he meant it as a date, Bilbo."

The Tesseract he's been working is at the forefront of his attention, a little less than halfway finished with the intricate designs just starting to look dazzling. Bilbo leans with his elbows on the counter, writing in one of his large notebooks absently. 

"Oh, it's definitely a date," he counters. "I've never seen someone so excited for a simple gathering of friends."

Another sigh. A bit of tinkering with the carving tools. A third sigh, one of defeat. And then the sound of a chair being dragged out. "Well, it probably shouldn't be. I'm far too old for him."

He glances over at his friend, who has paused in his writing to consider this point. "The boy's only twenty-two. How old are you?"

"I'll be thirty-three in four months," Bofur admits with a shrug of his shoulder. He's not particularly emotional about this discussion, simply resigned to the fact that he's not young enough for this anymore. "He'll be wantin' to talk about things like clubbin' and whatever else young people do these days. My old bones'll give out within a month."

"Thirty two?" Bilbo looks far more annoyed than he does surprised. "You're a good six years younger than I am, and here you are calling yourself an old man. That must make me ancient!"

Bofur snorts. "Well you are rather crotchety."

"Oh piss off," Bilbo mutters, though his good humor hasn't worn out. "Back to the point, regardless of whatever moral crisis you seem to have at the mere mention of dating this lad, he is old enough to choose for himself who he can and cannot date. I don't see the harm in tyring. You two seem to get on just fine doing friendly things. What's the harm in slapping a title on it and adding a few benefits?"

There's a pause in which Bofur ponders over this. He has to admit (albiet grudgingly) that Bilbo has a point. Kíli is old enough to decide things for himself and Bofur isn't getting on in years just yet. He grins. "Well, what d'ya know. You must be getting wise in yer old age."

Bilbo's only response is a humorless sneer. 

"Now, all I have to do is find something to wear that isn't hideous."

That friday ends up being a big day for Bofur. Bilbo ends up dragging him to a small bank that he and Gandalf use, and with a lot of persuasion and no small amount of whispered discussion, sets up a bank account for him. Bofur had kept most of his important documents with him in his bag over the years and the bank was compliant due to Bilbo's respectable reputation and the fact that Bofur has garnered a decent six hundred dollars. 

There are a few minor things they leave out, namely that Bofur isn't really staying at Bilbo's address, and that he isn't keen on getting a citizenship for the country until he's well back on his feet. There's a few things Bofur doesn't catch, like how his account is somehow linked to Bilbo's until further notice. But it's nice, if time consuming. 

It's not much, and the cost of rent around the city is far too high to even consider being a flatmate for a while, but Bofur feels lighter and more accomplished after leaving the bank with the knowledge that his card will be sent to him within the week.

They end up going to a clothing store just down the road (pointedly ignoring Gandalf's shop because his clothing, frankly, terrifies them both) with a nice selection of clothing. Bofur ends up picking out a pair of plain jeans and a brown plaid shirt. It looks nice, and doesn't make him seem like he's trying too hard to be young, so he counts it as a plus.

The down side is that Bilbo outwits him into allowing the shorter man to pay for his clothes, reminding Bofur that he just deposited most of his money into his account with no way to access it yet, and the rest of his money being back at the shop. Bilbo, while on a victory role, bullies him into buying a jacket so he'll stop wearing his beatup jacket to public places. 

"I'm very offended," Bofur comments, entirely unoffended.

"Terribly sorry," Bilbo replies without a trace of apology in his voice.

They have a good laugh on the way back the the shop. Bofur places his bags beside the desk and flips the sign to say "Open." 

"Are you excited for tomorrow?' Bilbo asks.

Bofur harrumphs and makes a big deal about being offended before replying, "I am a grown man. O' course I'm not." Bilbo raises and eyebrow at him and he folds. "Yes, okay. I'm excited."

All in all, it ends up being a very long day leading up to the moment that Kíli storms into the shop just after opening time with a box of donuts and three cups of coffee. Bilbo, who is resting his head against the cool glass of the counter in protest of the morning, gives a pathetic hurrah. "Bless you soul, lad."

Bofur returns from Bilbo's flat upstairs, freshly showered and dressed and immediately grins upon seeing the food. "Oh, man. I haven't ha' one o' those in a long time."

Kíli holds up the box in invitation. "I bought jelly filled, too."

Bofur takes the largest one he can find and happily takes a bite of it. "Deshhsish."

"Why, thank you," Kíli replies, making Bilbo roll his eyes.

"Don't encourage his crude behavior. It's rude to talk with your mouth full."

Bofur finishes the donut in three bites, miraculously keeping the powdered sugar off of his clothes. "Yer here early, Kíli."

They divide the coffee between them, Bofur taking the blackest one by default. "I just- Ah, that's hot! I wanted to bring ya guys breakfast. Besides, I figured we could make the most of today."

"So is this a date?" Bilbo asks, elbows on the counter and fingers steepled above the lid of his coffee cup. 

"No," Bofur replies at the same time that Kíli nods his head and says, "Yes."

Bofur clears his throat and reaches for another donut, before ammending. "Yes."

"You didn't think this was a date?" Kíli asks, surprised.

"No, I just didn't want ta assume."

Bilbo just rolls his eyes.

The three of them talk while eating their food and enjoying their coffee, though Bilbo seems eager to be rid of them, as they're in the habit of teaming up on him. A good hour later, he finally gets them out of the shop and on their way to only Kíli knows where.

"You look good with your hair down, Bofur," Kíli comments as they walk side-by-side on the crowded sidewalk.

Bofur feels the still damp hair with a wry smile. "Thanks. I didn't have much time to do anythin' with it, but I usually just leave it braided. Makes it easier to manage that way."

"You braided your mustache," he points out, reaching a hand out to tap one of the braids.

"That's always braided."

Kíli regards him seriously for a moment before nodding as if coming to a decision. "You're an odd man. It's refreshing."

That gets a boisterous laugh out of Bofur, a few pedestrians turning to look at him out of curiosity, and Kíli grins his success. 

As they walk to Kíli's mysterious first location, they talk about whatever comes to mind, never really going below the surface. Kíli mentions his classes and the huge amount of work he needs to do but will probably stave off until the last moment. Bofur offers him a few tips for bullshitting an essay and then the lead off onto a discussion of how Bofur even learned to carve as well as he does.

"When you're born in the town I was, there's not much else you can do," he replies.

Kíli accepts that as is, and they continue on with the conversation.

When they arrive at the almost delapidated building, Bofur is just finishing up a tale about how his brother broke his mother's favorite chair while visiting her for Christmas one year. Kíli has to stop and catch his breath, leaning over with his hands on his knees. "Oh my god. I need ta meet your brother some day."

"I'm sure the two o' ya would get along perfectly," Bofur admits, though he's sure those two would be more a bane of Bilbo than anyone else. 

Kíli holds the door open with a mock bow, Bofur curtseying as he passes him to enter. To his surprise, the inside turns out to be a comic book store. It's the most elaborate one he's seen, though to be fair he's never been to one before. He raises his eyes in askance and Kíli answers him with a grin. 

"Ori reminded me of your lack of superhero knowledge so I figured I'd bring you to our secret hideout," he explains, waving a hand at the cashier, a balding man with an almost-too-tight Superman T-shirt. 

He drags Bofur to the back of the store where there's a large bin full of comic books for less than fifty cents. Kíli immediately starts rifling through it. "Ori and I usually bring ten each and go crazy, but I don't really want anything this time. So. I'm going to pick out some essential things for you to read."

"Essential reading from the bargain bin?" Bofur asks in amusement. "Sounds reasonable to me."

"Exactly," Kíli says, handing over three comics called Rising Stars. Bofur flips over one of them to read the back. "Don't worry if some of it doesn't make sense, or if it's in the middle of a plotline. Ori and I will fill you in on anything that's confusing."

As if to prove his point, he hands Bofur a copy of 100 Bullets #3. Bofur stares at it before accepting this as something that he should probably get used to. "You boys must have a lot o' time on yer hands."

Kíli hands over Captain America #405 and Bofur spends a lot of time feeling overwhelmed after that. "Oh, we definitely do. Well, when we don't have midterms and stuff ta worry about."

Bofur can only imagine how many comic books they have between the two of them. In the end, they leave with five dollars worth because Bofur wouldn't let Kíli spend any more than that on him, and insisted he couldn't possibly read more anyways. 

They only spent about two hours there, and it hadn't really felt like that much to Bofur, and he's in really high spirits when they leave there with a bag stuffed full of comics. 


	10. Chapter 10

They end up being an hour early for the movie Kíli wants Bofur to see, something about an adventure and a magical ring, so they visit the theater's arcade and Bofur kicks Kíli's ass in Pacman before the younger man cries uncle. 

As if to prove he's still capable of schooling an older man at video games, Kíli wins three stuffed bears from a claw game. Bofur wins an mp3 player from the one next to it and Kíli refuses to speak to him for a whole of two minutes.

"No need to be sore, lad. It's all natural talent. You've gotta be the crane," Bofur teases, making Kíli whip his head around in surprise.

"You watch Spongebob?"

Bofur laughs as if that's a stupid question and nods his head. "Yeah. I'm homeless, not out o' touch. Though... ya might have to show me how to work this thing later."

Kíli valiantly tries to hold in a laugh but he ends up looking like a bloated fish and Bofur tells him to stop before he explodes or pops something.

It takes him five whole minutes to stop laughing. 

Ten minutes before the movie, after dividing the three bears between them with one in joint custody, they get in line for snacks. Kíli offers his hand to Bofur, who intertwines their fingers with a grin he barely tries to suppress. Since Kíli paid for a lot of the things they did today, Bofur insists on paying for their food (and also insinuates that they should go on a winter ice cream run afterwards). Kíli goes along with it, feeling this is a good compromise. 

They sit in the back of the theater, which is moderately crowded, Kíli making obscene faces at certain people who stare at them longer than is necessary. The largest popcorn bowl in the world rests in Kíli's lap, and Bofur has the nachos and Snowcaps. He goes to reach for a handful of popcorn but Kíli swats his hand away.

"Ya have ta wait for the movie ta start before ya can eat," he explains sagely. 

Bofur wistfully eyes the food before nodding his assent. It's incredibly childish, probably a family thing, and Bofur finds it entirely endearing that he's being dragged into the tradition. As if to make up for not allowing him to eat yet, Kíli places his hand over Bofur's where it rests between them. The older man turns his palm upwards and they twine finger once again.

It's nice like this. Bofur can't recall the last time he's held hands with a date; or the last time he's even been on a date, if he's honest. And they stay like that through the previews (Kíli leans over after every single one and gives it a rating), though when the movie itself starts, Kíli gently untangles their hands to start grabbing fistfuls of popcorn. 

Bofur isn't sure which is more amusing, the movie or Kíli's eating habits. He himself eats sparingly, not as inclined to try and fit a handful of popcorn into his mouth at once. Though he does eat the candy at an embarrassingly fast rate. The nachos, nearly forgotten, are spared. 

By the time the movie picks up, with a company of dwarves arriving into a tiny hole in the ground ("Well, that's odd." "Shh. That's classic literature in HD 3D."), the two of them are wholeheartedly entranced in the movie. Bofur has never been one for such outlandish fantasy movies, but this just seems to ensnare him at every turn. 

When poor Thimbo the Gnome nearly leaves them to return to the elves, Bofur grips the armrest in anger towards the leader, Thorsten. Kíli notices his anger and lets out a hiss of understanding anger. 

Bofur is somewhat vindicated that there's someone here who shares in his attachment to a fictional character, if only for these few hours. 

The movie really quickens after that, more action that back story, and Bofur leans forward in his seat just slightly, not taking his eyes off the screen as he reaches over to grab some popcorn. He half expects the cliche hand touch to occur, but it never does and life continues on as such.

When it ends, Bofur stares at the screen for a few moments before sliding back in his seat. "It's over?"

Kíli guffaws in surprise. "Ya were that inta it, too? Fuckin' incredible."

He nods and makes a noise to express what he can't say in words about the movie. "The characters were a little strange, though. That wizard seemed familiar though."

"Yeah, I thought so too."

They end up staying past the credits to see if there's a preview for anything, but there isn't. Kíli insists on bringing the popcorn with him ("Waste not, want not.") even though they've agreed to get ice cream.

He eats it the entire walk to the ice cream parlor (which at 4 in the afternoon seems a lot farther than he would have thought) and Bofur has never been less ashamed of a human being in his entire life. 

"Yer entirely ridiculous," Bofur states as Kíli starts to eat the unpopped kernels at the bottom. 

Kíli thumbs his nose, and then realizes that he's smeared butter on it and wipes it off. "Waste not, want not."

He can't think of a retort witty enough that wouldn't also sound mean so he settles for ruffling his hair, not entirely unlike a petulant child. Kíli gets the implication and bumps their shoulders together, making Bofur almost stumble into another pedestrian.

Once the popcorn is gone, and Kíli is sure there's nothing on his fingers anymore, they hold hands again. 

The ice cream shop is, thankfully, open when they arrive and they're laughing about immature jokes when they enter. There's only one other person in there besides them and the worker, so they stick to whispering things to each other. The elderly lady ordering a pint to go gives them a disapproving look but says nothing.

Bofur gets a hot fudge sundae with extra sprinkles, while Kíli does eenie-meenie-minie-moe with milkshake flavors. In the end he settles for vanilla, which simultaneously does and does not surprise Bofur. 

They eat in the park just down the block, much to the bewilderment of just about anyone who sees them. One little boy who passes asks them why, to which Bofur replies with "It makes the outside seem less cold." The answer is taken to heart.

All in all, the weather isn't bad. It's one of the warmer winter days with no snowfall and barely any wind. The sun shines down and warms them a tad bit more, and it almost feels like Fall (which still doesn't make the ice cream eating passable). 

Bofur ends up getting brain freeze from an attempt to out-eat Kíli, which was doomed from the start. He presses futilely at his temples until his date helpfully supplies that he should press his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

It doesn't help, but he doesn't let Kíli know that.

"I can't feel my fingers," Kíli states halfway through his milkshake. 

Bofur takes off his gloves (although they're fingerless) and offers them to him. He pulls them on without a second thought. 

"Remind me ta give these back later," Kíli says happily as he rubs his hands together.

"Sure. Long as you remind me ta give you yer coat back."

They chuckle to themselves and then lapse into a comfortable silence as they finish their ice cream. It turns out it wasn't such a poor investment because ice cream just tastes better in cold weather. There also wasn't much worrying over melting. 

Kíli takes both of their trash to the bin, standing before Bofur when he returns and bowing deeply with a hand extended. "By your leave, sir."

Bofur accepts it and rises to his feet. "I don't think that's quite how the sayin' is meant to be used."

"Semantics," Kíli replies with a grin that Bofur readily returns. "My campus actually isn't too far from here. Would ya like ta come in and put some music on that thing ya won?"

He considers this seriously. It's only a little past six and he doesn't really have to be back at a certain time. The shop closes at ten, so he should be fine there for an hour or two. "It would be an honor."

The room, like the last time he was there when Kíli tried to keep him out, is an absolute mess. Kíli hastily throws things about before Bofur assures him that it really doesn't make a difference to him. 

In the end, they huddle up on the couch (the only clear surface besides the beds) with Kíli's laptop on top of a pile of pizza boxes on the coffee table. "What type of music do ya like?"

"I dunno. Anythin' with a good beat. Maybe somethin' fun? Like dancing music."

Kíli nods sagely and pulls up a very impressive music library. He refuses to let Bofur pick any music, deciding to "make a romantic mixed tape, except digital and probably not as romantic as I'd hope." 

It takes a total of fifteen minutes to gather together three hundred songs, and Kíli excitedly connects the mp3 player to the laptop. "It should take around an hour for all a these ta be put on there."

"Okay. What'd you want to do in the meantime?" Bofur asks. 

Kíli smirks and Bofur watches as the younger man's gaze drops to his mouth. He has no idea what the proper timing is as far as first dates go, though he really does not care. "Oh, I can think a something."

"Care to enlighten me?" Bofur asks lightly, scooting closer to him on the couch and softly resting a hand on Kíli's knee. In the back of his mind, he silently hopes Fíli won't be coming back anytime soon.

A warm hand comes to rest over the scruff on Bofur's cheek before sliding along his face to tangle in his thick hair. Kíli leans in until he's close enough to get the point across without any parts of their faces touching, and he smells like ice cream and popcorn. It's a little gross, but Bofur really really isn't complaining.

"I would very much like ta kiss ya, if ya would be obliged."

Bofur doesn't point out his wrong usage of yet another phrase, instead leaning in a bit more with his head tilted just so. "Aye, I would."

"Smart ass," Kíli mutters before closing the distance between them quickly, cutting off any retort. 

It's a little clumsy at first, a few laughs bubbling out between them before heat starts to catch and they get seriously into it. Kíli presses rapid kisses to Bofur's parted lips, reveling in the feeling of his facial hair rubbing against his stubble with a nearly inaudible groan. He uses the hand tangled in Bofur's hair to pull the man closer to him, maneuvering himself to face Bofur more easily. Bofur himself moves in turn so that they can press more closely together, torso to torso. 

They exchange a few more open kisses, mouths lingering over each other and breaths intermingling. Finally, Bofur pulls back with an apologetic look. By way of explanation, he peels his jacket off and rolls up the sleeves to his shirt. Kíli seems to notice for the first time that he's still wearing his pea coat, unbuttoning it with a sheepish look and tossing it aside. Underneath his has a thin sweater which he peels off and adds to one of the piles throughout the dorm room.

Without so much as a word, but a mutual understanding that they won't go beyond making out, they resume. This time, it's not as slow and measured. Some kisses are hard and quick, teeth tugging on lips in between kisses and breathing speeding up. Others are slow and long, a lazy dance of tongues and lips.

At some point, through a lot of ungraceful movements and tugging, they end up laying down on the couch. Bofur lays on his back, one foot on the floor for minor support and the other bent up, Kíli laying between his legs languidly. 

After that, they slow down considerably. It's more a lingering of mouths near each other as they move slowly against one another without any sort of sexual gratification in mind.

Bofur enjoys this, kissing Kíli without it being simply foreplay. He likes gradually discovering the ways he likes to be kissed. (A nip underneath his jaw will get Bofur a groan, a drag of the tongue along the shell of an ear gets him a strangled noise.) 

It's entirely unhurried, though there's an undercurrent of thrumming pleasure that doesn't demand release. So when Kíli's laptop chimes, they're a little surprised to find how fast the time has gone by without anything escalating beyond that. Kíli sits back on his haunches after one last lingering kiss, giving Bofur an extremely satisfied look, which Bofur can only assume he's returning. Kíli clamors to get the mp3 player together for him as Bofur sits up and stretches.

He ends up borrowing a pair of Kíli's earbuds, and the younger man even walks him to the door like a proper gentleman ("Oh, shove it," Kíli mumbles with a laugh.) They end up kissing goodbye five times before Bofur finally owns up to needing to leave and they part ways with a promise to see each other again soon.

Bofur is elated the whole walk back to the shop, and he can't entirely blame it on the music he now possesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. This is now an AU in which The Hobbit exists. Except it's probably titled The Gnome. Or something more creative that I'm not going to attempt to make.


	11. Chapter 11

The following month and a half is peppered with dates and other such activities. Usually this involves doing a whole myriad of odd and fun things with Ori or Fíli, or both. Sometimes everything's shaken up and a new person enters the picture, though for the most part, it's always just Ori and Fíli with the two of them. (There's one memorable occasion where Bilbo, Bofur, and Thorin help the boys move into their new apartment just off campus and Bilbo and Thorin are caught making out on the apparently not-so-private balcony three hours into it.)

 And it's fun, Bofur thinks, if not a little public. He was never expecting anything from Kíli to begin with, so that's not the problem. The problem is that the dates never seem like dates, and he's begun to think that maybe that first date was a fluke and Kíli's changed his mind without saying so. 

A week and a half into February, Bilbo bullies him into talking about it. He's just put the finishing touches on the Tesseract project he'd undertaken for Ori, as well as a few side projects that had been ordered prior. The two of them are sitting in Bilbo's kitchen, nursing large mugs of tea. Bilbo is sporting a spectacularly sympathetic smile, which further enhances Bofur's grimace. 

"So why don't you just ask him?" Bilbo asks (not for the first time) when Bofur casually mentions that he isn't even sure if he and Kíli are dating. 

"I don't want him to feel pressured," Bofur gruffs in between large gulps of Darjeeling. Bilbo fixates him with an unimpressed.

"He isn't a little boy, Bofur. We'd be having a different conversation right now if he were." Bofur nods slowly, accepting this as a valid fact, but not seeing the reasoning behind Bilbo saying it. "If he were to feel pressured, despite that idea being complete bollocks, he would tell you or let you know. Honestly, there's no harm in simply asking him."

Bofur takes another large gulp of his drink, completely draining the cup. He stares at the empty porcelain for a few moments before sighing heavily. "Yer right. I'll... can I use yer phone?"

Bilbo fishes The Ancient Communication Brick (named thusly by Fíli) from his jacket pocket and hands it to the other man with a sickeningly smug look plastered to his face. Bofur pointedly ignores his smirk and dials Kíli's number. Bilbo gives him an encouraging thumbs up as it rings.

And rings.

And rings.

And rings.

Finally, it goes to voicemail and Bofur terminated the call without leaving a message. He's given a reproachful look at that, though he hands the phone over without really caring. 

Surprisingly, Kíli never returns his call that day. Or the next day. It isn't until three days after making the call that Bofur even gets word about Kíli in general. Ori, who is very good about keeping in touch with him, stops by the shop to pick up his Tesseract (insisting that Bofur accept the fifty dollars, rather than the thirty he had originally charged). 

Ori is nearly speechless in his enthusiasm for the piece of work, running his fingers over it and making happy noises that attract the attention of other customers, though it's met with amused grins. 

"Bofur, really. This is just...wow! I think it looks better than the actual movie one! How did you... you didn't have to color it."

This continues for a good few minutes in which Bofur looks torn between being embarrassed and being proud that Ori is so happy over his work. Finally, he has to cut Ori off before the boy hurts himself. "Ori- Ori, lad, calm down." Said man stop waving his hands around, tugging loosely on his knitted gloves before offering a sweet smile. "I'm glad it's to yer liking."

"I love it!" He turns it again in his hands, genuinely pleased with it. "I seriously feel like I should be paying you more for this."

Bofur shrugs a shoulder, digging behind his desk for a big enough bag to fit it in, finally finding a bright pink one with a lion roaring on the front. He holds it up, eyebrows crinkling in his confusion at the design before noticing that Ori seems to actually like it. "Consider it a discount between friends." 

Ori gratefully accepts the bag, gently placing the large wooden box into it with a broad grin. He seems to remember something and the grin slowly slides off of his face. "Look, um. I don't really want to go around spreading other people's business, but I don't think Kíli is being very fair with this and I like you so... He's purposefully not talking to you right now. I'm not sure why he's doing this, but it happens every time he gets serious about someone. He dates them for a while, realizes that he wants something more, and then pushes them away until they break up with him."

Bofur is a little shell shocked for a moment before nodding slowly as he processes these facts. "And... is that what he wants? To break up? Because I wasn't even sure we were datin' to begin with to be honest."

Ori shrugs helplessly. "I'm not sure. I'd suggest talking to him, but well, obviously that won't work if he's not talking to you. I'll talk to him for you, though. Smack some sense into him."

Bofur takes a good look at Ori. He's lanky and wearing a thick, wool dress with knitted gloves and a scarf. He doesn't really seem like he'd actually smack Kíli, but Bofur isn't stupid enough to put it past him. He chuckles with a slight shake of his head. "Just talkin'll do just fine, and I thank ya for it." 

They exchange a few more pleasantries before Ori finally leaves and Bilbo spends the rest of the day guiltily avoiding his gaze. Bofur resolves to actually talk to Kíli about this before actually stressing too much about this whole ordeal.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this three times before deciding to settle on this particular one.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn't hear from Kíli. Bofur calls once, leaves a voice mail letting Kíli know that he's always open to talk but he won't push him about it, and then leaves it be. There isn't enough between them for him to be shattered over the whole ordeal, but he is rather disappointed that there might not be a chance for the two of them to become more. He'd become rather fond of the idea of them being a serious couple. 

Ori calls once, lets Bofur know that Kíli got his voice mail and apparently Fíli has taken it upon himself to talk to his brother. Bofur thanks him but is sure to reassure Ori that he won't be devastated if things don't work out, just a tad bit sad. 

Bilbo continues with the guilty looks until Bofur finally bullies him into a night out. For a couple of older gentlemen such as themselves, that consists of dinner at a cheap diner and shopping at any store that's open after ten. (Bofur buys a plastic recorder from Wal-Mart and Bilbo grimaces for an outstanding record of an hour. Until Bilbo himself buys a plastic tea set from Target, along with a relatively expensive box of tea.)

Finally, it gets to be Valentine's Day. Bilbo nearly has a heart attack when Bofur reminds him about the holiday, huffing about not having proper decorations or sales in place. Bofur volunteers to hang up tacky decorations from the grocery down the block while Bilbo hastily hangs up "30% off all items!" signs wherever convenient. 

A few people come in, in the morning, some older men looking for "unique knick-knacks" and some younger women hoping for something suitably hipster. There's also the in between  people who just want something to buy that they feel they can't get somewhere else. Gandalf also has a habit of deferring people to them on days like this when he doesn't feel like putting up with those who have no knowledge of the arcane and are simply shopping for someone else. 

Halfway through the day they start to get heart broken customers. Women who sniffle into their hands in the aisles and men who start bawling on the counter while Bilbo looks lost and awkwardly tries to finish the transaction. Then you get the absolutely rude ones who take out their frustrations on the two of them.

Eventually Bofur leaves the shop for an hour or two and returns with seven bouquets of an array of flowers. Bilbo startles at the sight of him before falling into a fit of laughter. Bofur pointedly ignores him and hands a yellow marigold to the forlorn looking woman waiting for Bilbo to compose himself.

"I hope you have a wonderful day, miss," he says sincerely.

She flushes and can't help but smile, clutching the flower delicately between two fingers and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with the other, nervous laughter leaving her in bubbles before she clears her throat and nods. "Thank you."

Once she's left, Bilbo raises his eyebrows at him in surprise and Bofur shrugs. "You bought all those flowers to give away to people?"

"I'm a romantic at heart," Bofur shamelessly replies and Bilbo gives him a fond look before scuttling away to find proper vases to hold the flowers in.

The idea, as it turns out, is a great one. They only go through one bouquet  not having nearly that many customers this particular day, but it's worth it to see the faces of the customers as they recieve their gift. The men in particular are interesting to see, most of them unused to being given a flower by a grown man. 

One memorable man was a younger one, who looked to be younger than Frodo, exchanged the flower for a quick peck on the cheek and returned ten minutes after with two hot sandwiches from the other block. 

When they get to closing time (earlier, because Bilbo has "friend" plans with Thorin which has Bofur giving him pointed looks until Bilbo shoves him into a shelf in annoyance before apologizing profusely, much to the other's amusement) Bofur still has an abundance of flowers. 

"I should put them all in yer bed," he says offhandedly as he gathers them into a basket that hasn't been sold even after five months. (Bofur claims it's haunted, Bilbo thinks it's tacky.)

"Don't you dare. Why not take a walk around the city and give them to people?"

Bofur considers this for a moment before turning skeptical. "Mostly because I don't want to get shot fer givin' one to the wrong person."

He ends up going out anyways because Bilbo invites him to join him and Thorin and Bofur doesn't want to play third wheel to playground flirting. 

He gets a lot of looks, walking around with a large basket of flowers, but he's used to those and thus it doesn't bother him in the slightest. He hands out flowers to couples who look extremely happy, and people who look down on their luck. People who need a pick-me-up, and anyone in between. 

A lot of people refuse to take one, sneering and even making snide comments. He shrugs it off, offers them a backhanded insult, and carries on his way. 

Not too many people are out and about, either having plans or avoiding the weather, so he still has a good bit of flowers left when he makes it to the park near Kíli's apartment. He hadn't really planned this, but once he recognizes the area, he decides there's no harm in giving them to the few park goers. 

A little girl is pulling her annoyed mother to the empty fountain to look at all the change and Bofur gives them each five flowers, mildly alarmed when the little girl hugs him. He looks to the mother to make sure she isn't freaking out, but she simply gives him an apologetic smile and he gives a little laugh as if to say "what can you do."

Much to his luck, though he doesn't consider it so at the time, he stumbles upon Kíli on his way out of the park. The young man is seated on a park bench, facing him and seemingly staring straight at him. Bofur doesn't figure he can make a clever escape without looking rude, so he approaches him with a hesitant smile in place. 

"H'llo," he says in greeting. Kíli pats the spot next to him on the bench in response and Bofur gladly accepts the seat. He holds out the remaining flowers to Kíli, setting the basket on the ground beside his feet. "So, if I tell you that I wasn't tryin' to be creepy or anythin' and the flowers and location are pure coincidence, would you believe me?"

Kíli gives a bark of startled laughter, nearly breathless as if he'd been holding his breath in thought. He accepts the flowers and cradles them on his lap. "I saw ya giving them away to people... It's sorta why I came out here, to be honest."

"You came all the way out here for some flowers? I never pegged you for the type."

He's given the side-eye before Kíli chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm about to go Dr.Phil on you, just as a warning."

Bofur is idly shocked and then remembers that he's been given the silent treatment for nearly a month and realizes that it would be hard to approach the subject without "Dr.Phil"-ing it. Unless- "That's not a euphemism, right?"

"N...o."

He laughs and motions for Kíli to continue, getting serious for the other's sake, sensing the nature of this conversation. "I'm all ears, lad."

"I have a habit of being really reckless and jumping into just about everything without thinking," he pauses, waiting for Bofur to argue the contrary and snorts in amusement when he's given a knowing look. "Anyways, I apply it ta just about everything in my life, but I'm ill-equipped to deal with relationships in a serious manner and so when I jump headfirst into one without thinking it usually ends up with me sleeping with people and then this. Minus the talking bit, because usually I don't bother with that part. I eat greasy pizza until Fíli drags me to a gym and buys me a stripper.... Which also didn't happen this time." 

"Yer ramblin'," Bofur prompts gently, not commenting on the sleeping bit, and Kíli sighs.

"I know. What I'm trying to say is that it's not fair to ya. I'm acting like a baby about all of this. I was going to just leave it be and pray that you'd break it off officially, but then I saw ya giving flowers out to people and Ori mentioned that ya'd been giving them to people all day and I just-- felt like a piece of shit and decided to put on my big kid britches for once. And talk to ya. Which I'm doing a sodding job of."

Bofur pats his shoulder softly, watching him fiddle with the petals of a pink rose before deeming it appropriate to reply. "I'm not going to lie, it hurt. But I'm not going to hold a grudge with you. I can't fault you fer bein' who you are. I wasn't even really sure we were dating before, since it always just seemed like hangin' out. Which is mostly my fault for not asking for clarification, but whatever. I do have one question though."

"Okay."

"Did you have sex with people while we were 'dating'?"

Kíli nods but doesn't say anything further, eyes flitting around to look at anything but Bofur. Finally, after a few moments where Bofur mulls this over, Kíli purses his lips and breathes in deeply. "I'm sorry."

Bofur chuckles. "I'm not lookin' for an apology. Like I said, I wasn't sure myself. If we'd been in a committed relationship and you'd done it without talkin' to me, then we'd be havin' a different conversation."

Kíli looks at him incredulously. "You're possibly the most perfect man in the world."

"I think a lot o' people would beg to differ, but I thank you."

"So... where do we go from here?"

"Where do you want to go?"

There's a pause, and then Kíli makes a few frustrated noises. "I want to start over and try again, and be serious about it. It'd probably take some coaching and stuff but I'd be willing. But, um. I know that's asking for too much."

Bofur hums in thought, long enough to make Kíli turn more nervous than previously. "How about we start where we left off. If you promise to make an honest effort with this, I'll trust you to keep yer word."

"...Just like that?"

"Just like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughgjdsxdhgfs this is not the ending I had planned for this chapter but I'm going to stick with it because it's not oo awful.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a height chart things for the characters that show up frequently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on either one or two really huge chapters for this story so I can end it without needlessly dragging it on (on top of a lot of school work I need to finish), so I decided to post this little thing because I'm endlessly amused by how short Fili is.

Bofur: 5'6"  
Bilbo: 5'3"  
Kili: 5'8"  
Fili: 5'4"  
Ori: 5'5"  
Gandalf: 6'4"  
Thorin: 5'9"  
Frodo: 5'4"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh now on to more actual chapter writing.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the thing. AKA wrote smut and also gave Bofur's background story.

Their first date went about as well as a real, official first date could go, all things considered. They had known each other well enough by then to actually sustain conversation and lapse into pleasant silences every so often. And Kíli only injured himself twice, which was about par for the course. All in all, the two of them counted it as a huge success, rated it a ten out of ten, and agreed they would certainly like to do it again.

Which brings them to their second real, official date, two weeks after their "big moment." It's in Kíli's shared apartment—Fíli generously absent from the premises— and the younger man has made potato soup from scratch and heated up some bread from the bakery about ten minutes away. They're seated across from each other, Bofur more than enthusiastically enjoying his meal, and Kíli more than enjoying his noises of contentment. 

Bofur is on his third bowl, Kíli only encouraging the indulgence, happy that someone for once appreciates his cooking. Admittedly, this is pretty much the only thing he can consistently and successfully cook without burning it or inadvertently poisoning someone. (It had happened once, and even though he promised it was an accident, Fíli's girlfriend dumped him as soon as she got out of the hospital.)

"I might just have to have ya make this for me every time I come over, lad," Bofur says through a mouthful of bread. A little bit of broth is in his mustache and Kíli can't bring himself to find that as anything but endearing. 

He clears his throat somewhat pointedly and steeples his fingers on the tabletop, channeling the mature adult part of him that hibernates a good majority of the time. Bofur seems to catch on and focuses his attention on him, though he hardly pauses in his eating. "You could always move in with me."

Bofur inhales his bite of bread, trying to subtly stop himself from chocking on it but only succeeding in making it very obvious that he's not getting very much oxygen into his lungs. "Sorry, what?" he manages through gasping breaths. 

"Move in with me," Kíli repeats with certainty that makes him seem much older. Bofur gets the impression that he's thought about this for a good while but probably hasn't talked to his brother about it. 

"Yer...serious?" Bofur asks with incredulity, and Kíli nods enthusiastically. "I know we've known each other fer a decent amount of time, lad, but you still don't know very much about me. Ya don't know where I'm from, how I got here, why I'm homeless... This is a big decision for ya to be makin'."

"So tell me."

He sounds so sure, so stubbornly set on this idea, that Bofur sighs heavily and resigns himself to at least telling him more about himself. "I moved over here a good deal o' years ago with the irrational idea of makin' somethin' of myself. I was doin' good for a while. Got myself citizenship over here, had a small business goin'. I wasn't the richest man in the world but I was well enough off."

"What, uh. What happened?" the words are hesitant, as if Kíli isn't sure if asking questions will somehow remind Bofur that he doesn't want to be talking about his situation.

Bofur shrugs. "My cousin got into an accident at work and ended up in the hospital with severe head trauma. He was in a coma and the bills were expensive. My brother has a family and couldn't pay for the bills by himself so I wired the money to them. Set up this thing with the hospital where they could take the money from my account instead o' billin' him. My brother would pay whatever I couldn't. He woke up about three months later and the bills got paid off soon after that, thanks to a really generous donation from the neighbors back home. But I was really in debt by that time. I had to close down my shop because the rent was too high, and try ta work from my apartment.

"But in a big city, no one really wants ta stop at some rinky apartment for somethin' they could probably get somewhere else. Eventually, I had to close my bank account because I wouldn't be able to pay the upkeep for it. The landlord was nice enough, gave me a few months to try and get a decent job, but I didn't have any luck with that. Wrote my brother and cousin to tell them I got a job that sent me all over the place so I wouldn't have a permanent address anymore.

"I found myself on the streets before I knew it. That was... rough, in the most understated way possible, I'll tell ya. That's when you really find out what people can be like. I would scrape up whatever money I could get, buy food and occasionally a postcard to send to my family so they wouldn't worry. I never could hear back from them since they had nowhere to send letters. 

"When that city turned out to be nothin' but bad luck, I hitchhiked my way here. And now here we are, with ya offerin' to let a rundown average guy live with ya."

Kíli's expression is a myriad of things, but mostly he just looks crushed. Bofur gives him a gentle smile and reaches across the table to pat his clasped hands. "I— Holy shit, what do I even... Bofur. Have you called your family since you started ta get back on your feet?"

The older man nodded. "Once, about a month ago. Never told them about bein' homeless, though. Just gave my brother the address to Bilbo's shop, told him to write, and asked about my cousin. It was nice."

Kíli sucks in a deep breath and nods to himself. "Move in with me."

Bofur laughs in surprise, a small and sharp noise before giving Kíli a weary look. "Well, yer nothin' if not determined, I'll give ya that. I'll think about it. But ya should probably talk tp yer brother about this, too."

He looks slightly guilty at having been caught, but not at all apologetic or sheepish. He nods and they return to their date as if they didn't just have an axis shifting conversation. 

They don't really talk after that, though Bofur can tell Kíli is teeming with words that want to bubble out. And they do, half an hour later when Kíli hastily drags him into his room and kisses him against the bedroom door like they're teenagers at a party. 

Bofur's back is pressed against the dark stained wood, Kíli's hands fisted into his hair and his leg pressing insistently between the older man's own. It's not exactly hurried, but it's passionate. "You are just—" Kíli's mouth is a demanding force against his own and he's clearly trying to convey something with his actions— "How are you so nice and amazing and perfect?"

Bofur huffs out a laugh against his lips, puffy and slick from their shared kisses. "I'm hardly either o' those things."

Kíli isn't having any of that, not allowing him to deny it. He kisses him again, slowly this time, deeply. He clutches Bofur to himself and the other man in turn clutches at his hips. Kíli can feel Bofur against his thigh, clearly aroused, and a tight groan of satisfaction works it's way out of his throat. 

He trails a hand down over Bofur's loose shirt until he reaches his jeans, hand cupping his erection through the thick material and massaging it gently. Bofur's breath catches in his throat and his head tips back against the door.

Satisfied, Kíli repeats the action again and again until Bofur uses his grip on his hips to drag him closer still, his own arousal dragging against Bofur's leg. He hisses in surprised pleasure and Bofur chuckles breathlessly before Kíli captures his mouth again.

When Kíli seems intent on going a lot further than what they've done before (which isn't much, admittedly), Bofur breaks the kiss with a lot of reluctance. "I haven't showered in a few days, Kíli."

"You— What?" He seems so shell shocked that Bofur laughs and the other man joins him soon after. 

"That was a bit out o' nowhere. Sorry," he apologizes with little remorse. "But I would like to do that, sometime, before we actually go further than this."

Kíli rests his forehead against Bofur's chest and takes a deep breath before nodding in understanding. "Alright, that's... alright."

Bofur kisses him one more time, quick but deep, before parting with a wicked look. "Give me a heads up next time, lad. Cause I'd really like to have ya fuck me."

His reward is a sharp intake of breath, and his punishment is a jab to his side. "Christ! Keep saying stuff like that and I'll be tempted ta drag you into my shower and have you there."

He chuckles and cups Kíli's face with a sweet smile. "Never said I'd be opposed to a little touchin'. I think a walk back to the shop like this would probably kill me."

"Well I'd be more'n happy ta help you with that," is the reply given as Kíli deftly begins working on getting his jeans off of him, pausing every few moments to pepper his face with kisses. 

Bofur hums low in his throat when his pants and underwear and pushed down to his knees, Kíli kissing him breathless once again before moving his attention to his neck. He tastes a little like salt and dirt, not pleasant but not off-putting, and Kíli worries his teeth into the skin gently until Bofur moans breathlessly. Encouraged, he bites down and earns himself a startled cry.

He pulls a small tube from his back pocket and Bofur arches an eyebrow when he sees that it's lube. Kíli looks wicked and unapologetic and Bofur doesn't even mind as the fiery man squeezes a generous amount onto his palm and deftly wraps his fingers around Bofur's erection.

It's cold enough that Bofur jumps a little but soon forgets that as Kíli begins to stroke him quickly and with expertise, eyes watching his face intently. Bofur's hands clutch at his shoulders, breathing rapidly and staring at the ceiling. 

It's been a long dry spell for him, his concerns usually everywhere but with sex. Kíli of course, is rapidly shattering his slight disinterest. He won't last long, he knows, and he thinks the other man probably expects the same because he graces him with a knowing smile.

Before his mind can catch up with it, there are teeth on his neck and Kíli does something with his hand that has him arching his back sharply and crying out as he tips over the edge. Kíli works him through it, stroking his flagging erection slowly and ringing pleasure out of him until his legs begin to tremble slightly. 

Breathless and uncaring, Bofur sinks down to his knees, hands resting on the top of his thighs as he catches his breath. Kíli's leaning against the door, over him, and grinning down at him fondly.

He doesn't really think about it as he reaches up to undo Kíli's jeans, tugging them down with intent as the other watches him. He pulls out Kíli's cock, fingers wrapped loosely around it and swirling his thumb over the reddened head of it and smearing around the bit of precum gathered there.

"It's been a while since I did this while havin' a mustache," Bofur comments, mostly to himself. And before Kíli can process what that has to do with anything, Bofur takes the head of his dick into his mouth, tongue flicking over it before he begins to take more and more into his mouth.

Kíli chokes out a groan, hands clenching against the door. He keeps his eyes on Bofur though, trying to burn the image of this moment into his brain in case this never happens again (and what a horrid thought that is).

It might have been a while, but Bofur clearly knows what he's doing here. He takes all of Kíli's cock into his mouth, to the hilt, with little difficulty. Kíli, meanwhile, is beside himself with pleasure and unsure of what to do beside make breathless noises of encouragement. 

He threads a hand into Bofur's hair gently, the other bracing against the door for support. Bofur surprises him by doing something with his tongue, wiggling, and his hand tightens in the hair without thinking about it. 

Bofur groans around him, sending sparks of pleasure through Kíli, before slowly moving back. He smiles up at Kíli and the picture that paints isn't close to being fair. His hand returns to stroking his cock, hard and slick, and he lavishes it with broad licks wherever his fingers aren't splaying over the skin.

"Bofur—" the other chokes out in warning, feeling himself getting closer to orgasm. Bofur nods his understanding, stroking him more quickly before sucking the head back into his mouth.

He glances up at Kíli with a sated glint in his eyes and that's it. Kíli gives a full bodied shudder and spills into Bofur's willing mouth, the older man humming around the over-sensitive flesh until Kíli chokes out a sort of protest and he finally pulls away. 

Kíli doesn't collapse so much as slowly puddle himself onto Bofur's lap, the two of them collectively trying to gather their wits again. They're both ridiculous, pants around their ankles and trying to cuddle in spite of that, and eventually Kíli takes the initiative and strips the two of them completely. 

"C'mon," he mutters against Bofur's neck. "We can shower together and possibly pass out on my bed."

It's the most appealing thing Bofur's heard in a while, and so he eagerly, but sluggishly, stands and lets Kíli lead him by the hand into the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used written? kitten! as motivation for this chapter.


End file.
